The Order of Salazar
by hornedserpent16
Summary: Only three years after the War, with Harry as Head of the Department of MLE, an outburst of anti-muggle attacks makes the Wizarding World shake, and forces The Golden Trio back into action, seeking help in the most unexpected person, Draco Malfoy, in exchange for saving his mother from a fatal threat. How hard can it be for Hermione to work with the infamous Slytherin? HG/DM; HP/GW
1. Chapter 1

_Hey there! So good to see you. Hope you know what you're getting into; this is gonna be a long, crazy ride, so hold on tight!_

 _Before you dive into the products of my gaga head I'd like to clear a few things out:_

 _This fan fiction features adventure, action, romance and drama. It's set three years after the Second Wizarding War; it very respectfully and lovingly dismisses JKRowling's epilogue for the Deathly Hallows. I will try to make the characters as close to hers as I possibly can, I'll modify a few deaths, and probably make up others (sorry)…_

 _IT'S A DRAMIONE FANFIC; BUT it is NOT solely centered around them, as you will see. There will be lots of characters and important relationships and friendships along the way!_

 _Of course I would love for everybody to give this a chance! But still, I want to save you some trouble; if you like soft Draco, falling in love with fluffy Hermione in a short period of time, and dropping his prejudices at the blink of an eye, then this fic_ _ **isn't**_ _for you. Their romance will take time and effort, and a lot of fighting. Also, if you expect Ronald to be an angsty, hateful git, then you'll probably_ _ **not**_ _enjoy this either. Either way, I really hope you give this a chance, and you tell me all your thoughts on it. Specially the good ones._

 _Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoy!_

 _Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and content belongs to JKRowling. I merely gave it a little twist. I don't make profit from this._

 _Hornedserpent16_

* * *

Chapter 1.

A soft gasp broke the silence between the two people that sat facing each other.

''Harry! Not again!''

''Sorry! I swear I didn't see this one coming!''

It was the third time, in no more than ten minutes, that the amount of ice cream needed to fill a whole tablespoon had slowly melted and dripped itself all over the young wizard's cloak. The redheaded girl sitting right across from him sighed, as she let a few giggles escape her chocolate stained lips.

''Maybe we should move to a table inside? Lemon tart ice cream covered robes doesn't sound like the best way to make a good impression at work.''

''It sounds catchy and delicious, though.''

Harry looked up from his dirty cloak and wasn't able to hold in the grin that was slowly taking over his mouth. It'd been a couple of weeks since he'd last seen the girl. Now, as a few strands of her hair graciously slipped from her ponytail and whirled softly around her face, he couldn't feel more relieved that he got the chance to see her before his big day.

They were sitting peacefully at the Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley, enjoying the fresh rays of sun that were threatening to vanish, and at the same time meticulously melting Harry's ice cream to the point where he almost felt like going back home and changing his now sticky robes. But the idea of tearing himself apart from the girl, even just seconds more than he had to, made him drop the thought and enjoy his few minutes left with her in the busy street.

''So… Are you nervous?'' Ginny smiled softly at the boy as she slid her slender hand into his. Her touch was more than comforting to him, and she knew that. '' I know that asking you might make it even worse but…'' she hesitated ''I need you to let it all out and free yourself from the pressure, before you barge into the chaos that _that's_ going to be.''

Harry scratched his forehead right over his scar, and sighed. ''I feel like maybe I should be more nervous than I am. And more excited, for that matter. I mean, of course I'm excited, but I just can't help but think that I really shouldn't be doing this, that I didn't really -''

''- what? Earn it? '' Ginny rolled her eyes and put down her ice cream cup on the table in front of her with an annoyed sigh '' Really Harry Potter? Or better yet, Boy-who-lived-and-defeated-Voldemort-only-three-years-ago Potter? Don't be daft! Or modest! Nobody deserves this more than you, and you know it. You will live up to it, and you will exceed the expectations. And I don't know this because you're the _''Saviour of the Wizarding World''_ (which you are); I know this because you're Harry, and that's as good as anyone's ever going to be. So stop whining and lift your chin up; you're only gonna be looking down from where you're going.''

When she finished speaking, the girl let out a long breath. It was clear she'd been waiting to say those words to him, but Harry, who wasn't expecting the outburst, couldn't help himself and started laughing quietly. What a bold girl Ginny was, and how terribly head over heels he was for her. She smiled too, and moved her hand to his forearm, grabbing him firmly. This caught Harry's attention, who stopped laughing and sent her a meaningful look. There was a solid reason for Harry to be doubting himself in that moment; he'd been appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic. It was a big name, a big opportunity and overall an overwhelming responsibility. Starting today, he'd be handling every single disturbance and altercate that could possibly go on in the Wizarding World, he'd be giving commands, and ordering people around, and he wouldn't have any of his closest friends with him to help him manage.

So, it was his big day. As many people supporting him as doubting him. It was nerve wrecking, but it was happening. And it was happening in less than _ten minutes time_ …that's the moment Harry realized that time had flown by and that he was most positively running late on his first day as the boss.

''Bollocks! Shite!'' He hastily rubbed on his stains with a napkin and hurriedly grabbed Ginny by the waist. Not wasting a second's time, he planted a big, bold kiss on her lips, which such intensity that the girl's knees started shaking under his grasp. ''I have to go; I will see you later, and I will owl you with all the details'' He watched her mouth start to open in protest and kissed her quickly once more, before letting go of her and stumbling backwards towards the Ministry's entrance. ''Yes! I promise I'll do my best to be demanding and sharp and self-confident!'' His voice started fading as he put more and more distance between the two. ''Love you Gin!''

And with that, he disappeared around the corner with a whirl of his brand new cloak. Ginny stood there for a moment, smiling to herself and shaking her head as she pictured Harry trotting into the Ministry with his lemon tart stained robes and his messy charcoal hair.

''I love you too.''

* * *

 _A few weeks later_

''Great. Just great.'' The witch mumbled to herself, as she swiped the dirt of her mud covered knees and bent over to pick up the three books that had slipped out of her hands in the tumble. Without looking up to see who had so carelessly crashed against her and her tower of books, Hermione picked up the last document and started speaking ''You know, it's awfully rude to bump into people who are trying to carry more things than they can hold.''

The person standing in front of her laughed, and held out a hand for her to take. The witch stared at it, and blinked a few times. She knew that hand; she could recognize it anywhere. ''Harry!'' Hastily, she let go of his hand and launched herself into his arms in a tight hug, causing the books to tumble out of hers once more. ''Oh, just leave them. I can't believe it!'' She beamed at him, and after asking how he'd been, she noticed a slight flicker in his eyes, which cued her to frown slightly in concern. Oblivious at the beginning, she'd now come upon the purple bags under her friends eyes, and she decided her light reading could wait until she knew what troubled the wizard.

They'd bumped against each other in midst of a large, crowded corridor that led straight to the outdoor patio of the Ministry. The new installment had been built after the Second Wizarding War, and consisted of a large, round garden surrounded by benches, where pensive witches scribbled on parchments and elder employees puffed scented smoke from their wood pipes. The garden was filled with blooming roses and bright daisies, various trails of lavender bushes forming eight paths leading straight to the centre of the round patio, where, amidst a circle of strikingly bright tulips, stood the monument for the victims of the war. It was sculpture of considerable dimensions, composed of three main structures. It represented the the Deathly Hallows, resembling the wand, the stone and the cape; carefully, magically carved into each structure, were the names of all those who had lost their lives fighting in the war, as well as all those whose innocent lives had been stripped from them by the Dark Side.

A soft, estival breeze sneaked its way into the patio, as Harry and Hermione took seat on one of the metal benches which surrounded the monument.

''Ginny's been keeping me up on your work load; she said it's the reason why you weren't at The Burrow last Sunday, or Sunday before last, for that matter. Is the Auror Department really that busy at the moment?'' The witch spoke first, bringing the heavy books she'd been carrying onto her lap carefully.

''Currently, yes. A few weeks ago it wasn't so bad. But lately, it's just… '' Harry's voice lowered a few octaves as he looked around carefully. Hermione frowned, worry starting to dawn on her. ''I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but..'' He leaned slightly towards the girl and started talking without stopping to take a mere breath. '' Three weeks ago, there was an attack in a town close to Newcastle. It was completely out of the blue, caught us by surprise… Two muggles where injured and..'' he hesitated, and moved his hand to rest on Hermione's shoulder ''…a muggle-born wizard was killed.''

Hermione gasped, and her eyes opened wide in terror. She held her breath, waiting for a small group of witches which were passing by in that moment to walk away. She refused to believe that her daily nightmares were coming true; that somebody was to claim Voldemort's legacy, and start committing the crimes that once again would cost the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds a great deal of pain and innocent lives. She shook her head, unwilling to get ahead of herself just yet. ''It can't be; it must've been a coincidence that he was muggle-born, mustn't it? I can't dare to think that there are still a bunch of psychos willing to murder claiming the legacy of a dead monster.''

Harry sighed as he looked away from her troubled expression. ''There's more to it 'Mione.'' He waited for her to react, but she sat very still and stared fixedly at him. ''That was three weeks ago; but there was another one last week, and another a week before I took my place as Head of the department. As far as we know, there's no particular modus operandi; we can't know for sure where they could strike next, or what their goal is… It's been a difficult couple of months Hermione; this is slowly taking over me and I'm responsible for everything that happens out there. I don't know how I'm going to tackle this. I don't know where to start from…'' Harry clenched his teeth, as he felt Hermione's arms slowly wrap around him. ''Ginny, she knows about this, and she's worried sick. I don't blame her, but so far, we have nothing figured out, so it's not like we know enough to even suspect of anybody.''

It wasn't like Harry to doubt himself in that way; after the many, many years that the two of them had shared together, Hermione had witnessed times of grief and sorrow, and she'd celebrated with him during moments of joy. She'd seen him grow, and challenge himself and others repeatedly, both learning from everything and everyone around him, but mostly unconsciously teaching valuable lessons to those who cared for him the most. This job he now had, as Hermione had proudly stated as soon as she received the news, had indeed been built for him, and there was no one more deserving of the title than the young wizard who sat before her.

Hermione pulled slightly away from him and sighed. Her hands shaking lightly, she slid them into Harry's. She felt uneasy about the whole situation; she didn't even know how these attacks could've gone on unnoticed to the public's eye, how Harry had managed to hold the press and take control of the situation. ''Harry, let's go to your office. I want to see every piece of evidence that you have; maybe I can sort some new stuff out.''

''Really? Hermione, I honestly don't want to pull you away from whatever admirable project you're working on… I know you're busy with the Department of Magical Creatures; I don't want to drop this burden on you too.'' The witch slipped her hands out of his and and smiled briefly at him.

''Nonsense! Stop that. If there's a chance that bringing me into the case will help, I'll jump right in. I know you know that, Harry. Isn't that why you've come to me?''

Harry sighed and stood up, looking down at the bright woman in from of him. A few people walked by, and both noticed as a few eyes fell on them. It'd been a while since the two friends had been seen together. Hermione felt a gentle blush take over her face, as she noticed the group of people smiling tenderly, but Harry, being more used to the attention than the witch, simply avoided their gaze. ''You're right, I was sort of hoping you'd offer your help… but I still don't enjoy driving you away from your duties.''

''Oh, what are you on about now. My duties lie exactly where I wish them to.''

''Fine, but…''

''Harry, one more 'but' and I'll hex your lips into sticking themselves together. Understood?''

Harry simply chuckled, and nodded contently, as Hermione opened her mouth to speak again.

''What are you snickering at? Go ahead, guide me! I don't know the way to your department!''

''Oh; right. Yes. Sorry. This way.''

After taking two lifts and more than ten sharp turns in all directions, in the midst of witches and wizards, narrow corridors and flickering greenish lights, Harry and Hermione managed to arrive to the Law Enforcement Department almost unnoticed. Breathlessly, they sighed before the door, and waited to catch their breaths before they walked into the chaos. Chaos was the only way to describe it, or at least, that's the only thing Hermione could think about as they went through the door.

Interdepartmental memos where soaring across the room in an disorganized route that made them continuously crash into each other and into the pointy hats of witches and wizards that hastily ran from one end of the corridors to the other, carrying files and stacks of parchment waiting to be either signed, approved or revised by different members of the Department. Hermione counted more than ten coffee mugs and twelve tea cups levitating around the Hall, following their owners around in their quick paces and shouting voices. Endless copies of the Daily Prophet flew past her making her curls twirl in the air, and she could spot ink pots, quills and parchment being exchanged from each corner of the room. It was a big, disorganized mess; but it somehow worked.

Harry walked in front of Hermione, making his way through the busy crowd as people called his name and asked for short minutes of his time. The wizard patiently answered all the requests he could manage, as he made sure Hermione was still walking behind him and he signed a bunch of leaflets handed to him on the way. Hermione watched the exchange as she mentally thanked Merlin that she wasn't as skilled in defense as Harry was, doubting she could ever manage to handle the stress and activity of the job with the calm and parsimony that he did. She admired him a little more after crossing that Hall.

Finally, they reached a tall, black door, decorated with a rectangular golden plaque that read _''Harry J. Potter''_ for a few moments, and in an instant, the words delicately vanished as new others replaced them; _''Head of Department of Law Enforcement''_. Hermione smiled to herself, as she mentally congratulated her friend once more for the earned title.

Finally, the door shut behind them and Harry let out a short, sharp breath. ''Right. Let's get straight to it.''

Hermione, stood in front of him, watching him in awe, as she took in the chaos that they'd just escaped. ''You go through that Hall _every single day_?'' She stared with her mouth half open, as Harry nodded and wrinkled his nose. ''But, Harry! How can you even manage? _I'm_ exhausted and nobody even spoke to me!''

The wizard shrugged and reached for a bunch of files which where carefully piled up on top of a large, wooden wardrobe. Hermione took these moments to take the place in. The office was large and spacious. A great deal of light managed its way into the room, through a window which was grand both in width and height, making the place seem even bigger and brighter than it could ever appear to be. The walls were covered in dark wood, which matched the window frames, and the entire surface of a wide desk sitting in the middle of the room, currently covered with papers piled haphazardly over what seemed like Harry's belongings. Before her, a couple of comfortable looking armchairs sat facing the desk, and behind it sat another which was slightly larger in size but looked twice as comfortable as the others. She looked around, her eyes following the shelves of a wide library which covered the entire wall to her left, and she hold back the impulse to inspect every single volume in it.

''… now, that night it was sort of foggy so nobody could actually tell if it was Disapparition smoke or if it was really just fog… Hermione? Are you listening to me?''

'' Of course I am!'' She exclaimed; Harry opened his mouth to protest but she lifted a single finger, silencing him, and walking towards the library. As she slid her index finger over the titles of a long row of books, she spoke. ''The first attack was on February 27th. The result was one gravely injured wizard and two slightly dazed muggles. The second was 13th March. It was in the north, in a small village an hour away from York. Six muggles were severely harmed that night.'' She paused, her finger tracing the title of a particularly thick and rusty looking volume, which she then took out and opened carefully. ''And now you're talking of last week's attack. March 28th, was it?''

Harry stood very still, his mouth slightly open, as he watched the woman close shut the book and put it back its place. ''Well, I mean… I detailed it a little more than that, but yes.''

''Harry, it's foggy in the whole of England at this time of the year.''

''Fine, okay. So maybe the fog wasn't relevant. But something we found was.''

This caught Hermione's attention. She looked up from the case files she had grabbed from the desk, searching for anything that could resemble a pattern. ''What was it?''

''A pocket watch.'' He answered. When he noticed Hermione's puzzled expression, he continued. ''An old one, made of Goblin silver. Pureblood heritage, probably. It reeked of dark magic, so it's currently under investigation.''

Hermione remained silent, arms crossed over her chest as she listened to him intently. When he was done, she took a few minutes of thinking before she spoke. ''Was there a certain hour set on it?''

''No, it was merely a moon watch. It was set on the full moon, but that was two days ago and there were no signs of activity.''

''I have to do some research, but Harry, this is what I've gathered so far.'' Hermione paced around the room and continued. '' There was a half moon the night of every single attack. It can't be a coincidence. Also, if I'm my calculations are right…'' Harry laughed internally. Hermione being wrong in her theories was as likely as him becoming a Death Eater. ''They're following a lunar schedule. It was 3rd Quarter on the first attack; 1st Quarter on the second, then 3rd Quarter again on the third… It's highly likely that the next will be on a 1st Quarter.''

Harry nodded, as he scribbled on a note pad he'd been holding since Hermione had started to speak. ''That's in five days time.'' It didn't seem like Harry was speaking to anybody in particular, he leant his chin on his knuckles as he took seat on the desk. Hermione couldn't help feeling slightly intimidated by the scene; she tended to forget all about his position when they were talking normally.

''Harry.'' He looked up as she spoke. ''I want in on the case. This seems like a big deal, and I think it might help you having someone like me on the team.'' She blushed lightly, despite her words, and walked over to his desk. ''I'm signing up for Auror tryouts first thing tomorrow.''

''What? No!'' He exclaimed ''I mean, of course I'd love you to'' he added, as Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. ''…but I know you're running for Head of the Department of Magical Creatures. I can't let you drop that and just attend to my troubles!''

''Your troubles, as it seems, are everyone's troubles, Harry. I'm sorry, but you're not getting rid of me that easily. I know you're the boss and all that, but I feel as if what this case is missing is some insight and bossing around. And Merlin, I can give you that! So that's that. I'm in.'' She smiled proudly, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Harry jumped out of his seat and walked towards her. Before Hermione could realize, she was stuck in a suffocating hug, unable to move, surrounded by the wizard's arms.

''Harry…'' she managed to blurt out '' …you're crushing me.''

''Oh! Merlin; sorry 'Mione! I got a little sentimental there.''

* * *

 _Right! So there's that! That was the first chapter. You might think it's a bit slow, but don't worry, it'll get fast paced in no time._

 _Anyways! I hope you liked it, and I hope you review and tell me how much you did._

 _Thank you for reading my rambling too, by the way._

 _Till next time!_

 _Hornedserpent16_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

''G'Afternoon mate! Something I can do for you?''

The rush of the afternoon hours was always the worst. Hordes of people excitedly making their way into the shop, ogling and taking over every single corner of the place, their vicious hands grabbing everything they could to try and guess its likely playful and amusing effects. That day, was a particularly busy one, as every Friday tended to be. Kids where stacking up as many items as possible for them to last until the end of term, and, as always, the faithful admirers of their products were paying their daily visit in the hopes of being the first to own the newest Weasley's Wizards' Wheezes launch.

''Yes, actually! I was wondering if Mr Weasley is in today'' The man who'd just entered the shop stood out among the crowd of teenagers which surrounded him. A heavy cloak hung around his shoulders, and a small, elegant hat crowned his charcoal hair. As soon as the hat was off his head, the employee, who'd hurriedly walked up to assist him, realized who he was.

''No- I mean, yes! I mean…'' nervously fidgeting with his badge, the young man blabbered ''… Yeh! Mr Weasley is in. Or maybe, hold on a tad second… which Mr Weasley are you referring to?''

Harry, confused at his jabbering, chuckled. '' I'm looking for Ron Weasley.''

''Blimey!'' Harry's head shot up as he head a hoot coming from above his head ''…is that Mr Harry-big-fish-Potter? Where've you been hiding at mate?''

Ron Weasley was standing on a flight of stairs which hovered over the entrance of the shop; his tousled, ginger hair sneaking into his face, where a wide grin had slipped its way and was now directed at his old friend. He hopped off the last steps of the flight and put his arms around Harry in a tight, bulky hug, during which both patted each other's backs as they chuckled.

''Thanks for your help Anthony, but I think I'll take over from here.'' The young worker nodded at his words and directed a grin at Harry before taking off.

''Still doing great, I see!''

''You know us! Enough about the shop though. Tell me about the job, man!''

They entered a small office that was located at the end of a long corridor on the upper floor. Ron beamed at his friend, as Harry looked around the new office. It was always good to see him, but he was getting the feeling that Harry wasn't there on a simple visit. Usually, he would owl or floo him; they'd meet up at The Burrow and have a lad's night, or they would have a couple of drinks and watch the game at Grimmauld Place, Harry's current home. He rarely stopped by the shop, because it took time off his job and everyone around him knew just how busy was getting lately.

''Swamped, really.'' Harry slid his cloak off and hug it over an the back of a bright orange armchair. ''I wanted to talk to you about something.''

''Yeah, I figured. Fancy some Firewhisky? I've got a bottle stacked up for emergencies.'' Ron said, as his hand pointed lazily towards a small cabinet at the back.

''How do you know this is an emergency?'' Harry asked, as he nodded for the wizard to hand him a glass.

''No offense mate, but you look like utter crap.''

Harry laughed at his friend's words and took a sip of the drink that he'd set on the desk in front of him. ''Thanks Ron, I don't know why I didn't come to you earlier.''

The redhead shrugged and sat across from his friend, wondering what could've brought him in that day. '' What are you waiting for? Shoot. ''

For the next hour, Harry broke the news about the troubles he'd shared with Hermione the previous day. He mentioned the attacks, the dates, the moon pattern the witch had pointed out… Ron noticed the wizard's hands fidgeting on the glass; his nervous eyes lingering around the room, and the flush on his face that resulted from his long speech, which Ron could swear he'd started and finished on the same breath.

As the wizard spoke, Ron could only mutter words of astonishment, letting out a sudden 'Bloody hell!' and an occasional 'Blessed Merlin..!'. He intently listened to Harry's babbling, and, when he was close to finishing, he put down his glass and put a hand on Harry's shoulder encouragingly.

''And what made you wait so bloody long tell me this?'' Ron sighed and didn't let Harry reply. ''Alright, whatever. It's done now; I'm in.''

''You too?'' Harry stood up and clenched his hands into fists ''Ron, I can't pull you away from the shop; you can't just leave George in charge of all of this! He won't manage!''

''Blimey Harry! Hermione's in, which means she dropped out of her goblins and elfs' rights campaign! Didn't she? Are you doubting my chances of becoming an auror?'' Ron knew Harry wasn't doing such a thing; he was trying to make him see what was obvious; that if Harry ever came upon trouble, and needed a hand, Ron would be there at the blink of an eye, and he would follow his lead as he always had.

''Come on Ron! Not that rubbish again! You now what? Fine! You're in.'' Harry sighed, and he took a last sip of his drink, as he picked up his cloak and threw it around himself.

''Of course I am mate. See you tomorrow at tryouts then?''

''Sure. I've to go now. Will you care not to mention this to Ginny? She'll murder me if she knows I put you up for it.'' Ron nodded, and Harry made his way awkwardly towards the door. ''And Ron…'' he said, opening the door towards him ''You don't look too great yourself.''

Ron laughed as Harry shut the door behind him, and he stood there, in the middle of his office, the sound of the crowded shop echoing around the walls. He wondered what this next few months had in store for the three of them, once again getting together and off to deal with an unfortunately dangerous series of events.

* * *

''Mr Malfoy, here you have today's newspaper''

''You received an owl from the Ministry this morning, Mr Malfoy, it's signed by the Department of Magical Transportation…''

''Mr Malfoy, there're five documents on your desk which should be approved and signed by the end of today.''

As the employees came running up to him, and each blurted out their pointless messages to him, Draco Malfoy nodded and made his way down the wide corridor that led straight to his office, his black, leather suitcase floating carelessly behind him. That morning, it seemed, was a particularly busy one. As he was getting closer to the door, he spun around slowly, and every person who had walked by his side, as well as those who were hurriedly making their way up to him, stopped on their tracks and watched his static features passively pointing towards them.

''Any requests will be messaged to me. I want the door to my office closed at all times; except for emergencies. I suggest you all find a suitable definition for emergency, that will refrain you from bothering me.''

He glanced at the group of people in front of him, and as they nodded in unison, a feeling of satisfaction crept up his straightened spine. With one last gaze, he turned around on the spot, and barged into his office, closing the door behind him with one strong thud.

Behind closed doors, he let out a sharp breath, and snapped his fingers lightly, making his suitcase slide across the room into a mahogany wardrobe at the back. As he made his way to his desk, he glanced at the cover of The Daily Prophet, and had to look twice when he realized what he'd read.

''What on Merlin's name…''

The front page had been completely taken over by a series of striking pictures. Some showed images of burnt down houses, explosion craters and terrified, disheveled muggles being swept of their memories by Ministry Aurors. Above all of them, stood a slightly bigger picture which made the wizard's mouth draw into a mock of disdain. Harry Potter, kneeled on the ground, as he helped a muggle woman to her feet and he turned his head to look around. The wary expression on his face was perfectly captured by the photographer. Top of the page, was the Prophet's headline; _'Series of attacks in muggle neighborhoods leaves the Wizarding community discombobulated_ '.

Draco stared at the paper blankly, unable to put two thoughts together, as he looked into one of the muggle's eyes, who was glancing at the camera with a terrified expression on his face.

''Bloody hell..'' He muttered, as he dropped the paper onto the desk and sprawled himself on his chair. He rested his chin on his right hand, between his thumb and his index finger, and all sorts of thoughts crossed his mind. It'd been such a peaceful three years, no disturbances in sight, no incidents, no deaths, no plotting… That the thought of a series of attacks suddenly taking place, made him feel slightly uneasy. Who were these people? It was clear what their target was; or better yet, _who_ they were. He shook his head incredulously and sat up, taking a quill and some documents which required his steady attention.

For the last three years, Draco Malfoy had taken over the family business, and had dedicated his working hours to bringing the Malfoy family name a fair share of honor and forgiveness. After the war, with his father gone and her mother falling mentally ill for a while, he'd had to spring into the world of magical investing and as time had gone by, and he'd gotten more skilled in the business, he had forced the Malfoy empire to venture into working further with the Ministry of Magic. The result was a fair amount of work, little complaining and lots of patience. As time had passed, he'd learnt to limit his whining to being behind closed doors. His prejudices had forcefully and reluctantly been pushed aside for the time being, as it had been the only possible path to take in order to work further with the Ministry.

A knock on his door made his head shoot up, and an impatient breath leave his nose. ''Mr Malfoy, you have a visit.'' The wizard sighed and stood up from his chair; without looking at it, he flicked his wand lightly towards the door and it opened with a soft ' _click'._

''So this is what the emperor's new work space looks like? I have to say, I'm thoroughly disappointed.'' When he recognized the young man's voice, a light smirk appeared on his face, and he looked up to greet his peer, Blaise Zabini. His dark skin stood out against the dark green turtleneck he was wearing, and he had a black cloak draped over his shoulders. Standing right behind the wizard, much to Draco's surprise, was a witch of sharp features and raven black hair.

''Now now… What in the world could bring the whole Slytherin House knocking on my polished door?'' He asked, his stare directed straight at the woman.

''Not even a welcoming word? Draco, you are discouraging us by the minute.'' The witch spoke, with a soft feminine voice. She too was wrapped in dark robes, her light green eyes steadily gazing at Draco and his surroundings. The wizard moved forward and gestured for them to come in, shutting the door behind them. Something inside his head urged him to suspect of the visit. It wasn't like either of his housemates to drop by unannounced, in the middle of the week, and even less during working hours.

''As always, it's moderately agreeable to have you here.'' Draco stated blatantly. He saw Pansy's mouth draw into a smirk and he continued speaking. ''Even so, I can't help but wonder what brings two unemployed, dirty rich socialites into my office. At 9 in the morning, too. I've either done something grand, or I've earned a life sentence and you have come to collect it.''

Blaise let out a carefree laugh and he took seat at the wizard's desk. ''Actually, you're not far from our intentions. Rather than collect, we're here to recruit.'' Something ticked inside Draco's gut, as he slithered across the room and stared at the two of them, his eyes slightly narrowed. ''Or better yet; we have an offer to make.''

At this point, Draco crossed his arms over his chest as he made no effort to hide his crippling curiosity. ''An offer? Surely it is one tempting enough to make you think I could take it?'' At his words, Blaise nodded, and he watched the other wizard sit across from them, behind the desk. ''Well then, what are you waiting for? The anticipation is killing me.'' His voice flat as the ground, he awaited his longed answer.

''Are you at peace with your life, Draco? This job, those people you surround yourself and work with.'' Pansy was the one who started speaking, as she painfully slowly made her way up to his desk and leant on it. ''Do they make you feel… How would you put it, Blaise? Complete? Accomplished?'' Blaise nodded, as Draco listened intently, careful never to take his eyes off the witch.

''Have I given a different impression?''

''Why, of course not. But all three of us know, dear Draco, that you are a nothing but a proficient actor.'' At her masked compliment, Draco barely moved, only his eyebrow shooting up. Upon seeing this, the woman giggled. ''All those ideals, which you've so thoroughly attempted to push aside during these three years, those ways of thinking and acting which you abided by before the war… They are slowly coming back, Draco. The heat of the war is dying out and without it, certain sections of society are beginning to go back to… old habits.''

If Draco hadn't realized where the conversation was heading, then he wouldn't have been able to hold in the sneer of pure disgust which attempted to sneak its way on his face.

'' I don't see your point.''

''I think you very well do, Drake.'' This time, it was Blaise who was speaking. When he spoke, it felt different than when Pansy did. The wizard had proved to be Draco's friend throughout their long years at Hogwarts, and even after the war, he'd been keen on maintaining their friendship, even so when the young Malfoy was often hard to be around. He'd always had an open bottle of Firewhisky upon his arrivals, and a whole lot of free time to listen to Draco's babbling about the job, and adamantly cursing the Ministry. During the last six months, they'd seemingly drifted apart, with Blaise's extensive traveling, and his new likes for Witch Weekly's society columns.

''Fine; I want you to spell out your point for me.''

''All we're saying is, there's a new movement on the rise, Drake. I gather you've already read today's Prophet by now, and you've realized just how actively they're proving their _own_ point.'' Blaised rested both his hands on the back of his head, carelessly leaning onto the back of his chair. ''We want you to join us as we support this new notion.''

Draco held his breath, as he saw Blaise's eyes flicker upon his silence. He shifted his stare from him to Pansy and viceversa, unable to hold in his hesitancy. ''Support them?'' He asked, a barely noticeable trace of disgust creeping its way into his words. ''I hope that you two are just blabbering.'' He stood up from his armchair, and kept his jaw tightly clenched as he spoke. ''I really, very much hope that you haven't been foolish enough to have been lured into the wrong side of the game once again.'' His threatening tone was becoming more evident with every word he spoke, and he paused to get a hold of himself. If the witch and wizard were talking the truth, and not just some delusional rubbish, the he ought to be careful and choose his words right.

''Except this time Draco… this time it's not the wrong side.'' The way Pansy's eyes gleamed as she spoke made his stomach turn. ''Come work with us. You, Draco, being back in society's good graces, and being head of the Malfoy empire, working so close knitted with the Ministry… You could be the missing puzzle piece that would make our case conquer.'' With every word that slipped out of her lips, Pansy had taken a small, careful step towards him. Her light green eyes, were now staring straight into his; her face barely inches from the wizard's. Draco felt his throat dry up and his breathing quicken, as he noticed how her pupils were slowly getting bigger and were darkening her stare. ''Just think about the glory. The feeling of accomplishment which would surge through you as you were able to dictate your own rules, pursuit your own interests…''

Draco snapped out of her alluring aura and backed off away from her touch. He snickered, unable to believe what was going on right in front of him. ''You can't be serious.''

''We well bloody are Draco.'' It was Blaise's turn to stand up and stare fixedly at his friend. ''This is what we have to offer; a leading position. A privileged spot in the ranks of a flourishing undertaking. You will be listened to, and obeyed, and respected. This movement represents everything you've always believed, Drake. It's the moment to take back what the war took from us.''

''Is this an offer, or a command?'' Draco felt his head pulse painfully, as the room around him started twisting in a dizzy sway. He couldn't believe his ears; he could barely manage to keep a straight face, as Blaise and Pansy walked unbothered towards the door.

''It's a gift, Draco. An honor. And you know how easily hurt some wizards' honor is… I recommend you don't take this opportunity lightly.''

''And if I decline?''

''Don't worry about that, Drake. You can't decline.''

Pansy giggled once more, and as Blaise stepped out the door, she spoke ''See you soon…'' then turned around and winked at him, a triumphant smile plastered on her face.

* * *

 _Okey dokey! So, as you've probably noticed, I uploaded the second chapter a little more than a day after the first. I want to clear out that it's because I have barely started classes again, and I've quite a bit of free time on my hands… It won't always be like this! However, I will put all my effort into writing and uploading chapters as regularly as I can manage._

 _So! I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I particularly enjoyed writing it, because it features a few of my favourite characters in the saga. Draco Malfoy as the top one, of course. Anyways, I've you did like it, more is coming this way! And I would love for you to follow my story._

 _Any respectful opinion and constructive criticism is far more than welcome! And obviously corrections of any type; I don't currently have the help of a beta reader so It's likely that there'll be a bunch of those! Anyways, enough babbling. Wether you liked it or not, please review and tell me all about it!_

 _Much love_

 _Hornedserpent16_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to JKRowling. Much to my __chagrin, I own no characters, sceneries or cannon storyline whatsoever, and I am making no profit from this._

 _ **Chapter 3**_

''Blimey, Hermione, could you be _any_ slower?''

''If you don't stop complaining I will show you just how slow one can get!''

''Merlin, woman; no need for violence…''

''You two stop bickering or you'll sleep in Kreacher's room for a week.''

Hermione huffed and made sure that Harry wasn't looking before she gracelessly stuck her tongue out to Ron. Right behind her, the redhead was struggling to carry a couple of bulky boxes and a tower of heavy books, as they made their way up the front steps of Grimmauld Place. After the leaking of the attacks to the press the previous Friday, they both had agreed to move in with Harry temporarily, in the hopes of advancing further with the case, away from the Ministry's prying eyes.

The weekend had proved uneventful; two days of persistent bucketing and empty streets, the rain dragging people's moods and flooding their good intentions. The news of the incidents had viciously taken over everyone's conversation topics. Harry had sent out numerous messages to the press, demanding composure and serenity. As Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, he'd had to make several public appearances with the sole purpose of soothing people's concerns. He'd promised to do everything he could, day by day, to ensure the safety of those who feared.

Hermione had spent her days with her nose stuck in different books; brainstorming, making up irrational hypothesis and pointless conjectures, trying unreasonably hard not to think about the likeliness of the rising of a new psychotic murderer in the Wizarding world. She'd gotten research done; she'd excessively overanalyzed the case files, and she had dragged Ron from one side of the house to the other carrying towers of books and making him answer endless questions about pureblood heritage and ancient magical traditions.

By the end of the working hours of Monday, the three of them separately arrived home, worn out, and ended up sprawling themselves across the sofas at Harry's place. For some reason, a gloomy atmosphere took over the room that evening.

Ron fell asleep after minutes of utter silence, and Harry's stomach rumbled loudly and consistently for a while, which made Hermione muffle a laugh and head towards the kitchen to assemble a quick snack for her friend. A while later, Harry followed her into the kitchen and sat on a rusty wooden stool, as he watched the witch's maneuvering and fiddling around.

''You could always use magic, you know.'' He'd casually said.

''I could.'' She glanced at him from behind the counter and began stirring the contents of a large pot. ''But I wouldn't find it half as soothing as I do by doing it the muggle way. Maybe you could try, one of these days. It takes your mind off things for a while.''

''Don't know, 'Mione. I think I'd rather my mind stayed alert for the time being.''

The witch sighed, and she leant her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her palms. ''If you say so.'' Harry nodded and she kept speaking. ''I've been thinking…-''

''Now that's a shocker …''

''Harry! Just listen up! This morning I went to your office…-''

A sudden blast of flames erupted from the stove and made both jump. Harry burst out into laughter, and Hermione had to hold in a smile at the sound of his chuckles. It'd been a while since she'd heard them. She complained about the outdated gas stove and put out the fire with a brisk flick of her wand and a annoyed _'aguamenti'._

Harry dried with his hand the single tear which his laugh had made him shed, and led her on. ''I'm sorry, you were saying?''

Hermione closed her mouth, annoyed, and narrowed her eyes at him for a few seconds ''…- as I was trying to say, I was reading about Goblin silver and… - ''

''That's bugger'' A voice interrupted her once again ''I thought you'd be done with the chit chat by now… I'm famished!''

Ron had appeared at the door rubbing his puffy eyes with one hand and muffling a noisy yawn with the other. Hermione huffed, frustrated, and watched Harry burst once more into laughter at her expense. ''That's not funny, Harry.''

''What isn't funny?'' Ron asked, confused.

''Ron; I think I can see smoke coming out of Hermione's nose.''

''Wouldn't be the first time!''

They both joked around and laughed while Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. Miffed, the witch took her wand out, and before either wizard could react, she threw a Tongue-Tying curse their way, temporarily sticking their tongues to the roof of their mouths. Harry and Ron both stood there, their eyes open wide, and looked at each other, astonished, as muffled sounds came out of their mouths.

''Oh, come on. Don't act as if you don't deserve it!''

Ron shrugged and Harry begrudgingly agreed.

''Outstanding. Now, before I get any more pissed off.'' She nervously tapped her foot on the floor as she spoke. ''This morning… Remember how I left early? I stopped by Harry's office to check out the silver pocket watch once more.'' Both men nodded at her words and she went on. ''I know you wanted to wait, and I also know you didn't want to have it analyzed by the Ministry in case there was somebody involved who could ruin any evidence, so; I may have or may have not taken the matter into my own hands…''

Harry lifted his hand up and pressed it against his forehead. He had repeatedly warned the witch not to go overboard with the research, and she had utterly ignored him. Hermione had known that it wouldn't particularly please him; after all, their link wasn't jut friendships anymore, it was also their jobs at the Department. But, unable as she was to hold back, she'd promised herself she would make it worth his while. The last week had been a colossal, dispiriting dead end; Harry had reduced his inner trust circle to them two and Ginny, who couldn't exactly do anything to help. Shacklebolt was too crammed up to help out, and Lupin was off on a crusade, together with the Harry's three most trusted Aurors. Considering the wizard had a hard time delegating and trusting the rest of the team, he'd quickly become saturated with work and hadn't been able to focus properly on the case.

''Just wait and hear me out!'' She rested her hand on Harry's arms as he glared at her silently. Ron didn't speak. ''Turns out it isn't made of silver; it's platinum. Which makes it about a hundred times more valuable then we thought. I know I might be getting ahead of myself here but, after knowing this, the list of families whose heritage it could be a part of becomes quite limited, right? However, it also may be an inherited object; in which case, even if not rich, the family would need to be part of a long lineage of wizarding, very likely pureblood, tradition.. And there aren't many Houses which can claim they are.'' She turned to look at Harry ''Of course, these are only speculations. But it does look like it's exceedingly valuable; it probably has its own life story to tell… I was just thinking that maybe if you would let me take it to Knockturn Alley I could find out who it belongs to.''

Harry sat still for a few minutes; said nothing. He fidgeted with the button of his cardigan and stared at Hermione intently. The witched shifted in her seat and rested her hands on her lap. She was starting to think that maybe Harry wouldn't be as keen on supporting her as she thought he would; maybe he would get angry at her, for her impatience and hastiness. After all; he _was_ the person conducting the investigation, and he _had_ warned her not to act upon it unless he'd been informed… The wizard had a peaceful expression on his face, his eyes steadily locked on hers, and Hermione could feel herself getting ready to face the lectures and the complaints from the her friend and boss.

''Can you please say something!'' She shrieked nervously, her teeth nipping her lower lip. Harry smiled teasingly and shook his head, making Hermione's heart sink to the floor. She opened her mouth to quickly apologize, and then realized that Harry was mocking her and that he really couldn't speak because of her own previous hex. ''Oh! That serves me right… _Finite incantatem_!''

The first thing Harry did was sigh; next to him, Ron got up and started walking towards the pot of stew which Hermione had been previously working on. ''Bloody hell, and you couldn't have told us all of that over dinner? I thought I was going to faint from sitting on that crappy stool with _nothing_ in my stomach.''

He clumsily turned off the gas stove and drawing out his wand, levitated it towards the table, on which, at the same time, a shiny set of silverware was swiftly making its way to their eating spots. A wide, cotton tablecloth unfolded itself over the table, its dark red color instantly providing warmth to the whole kitchen. Hermione watched as Ron magically tidied her mess and laid the table for the three of them, and Harry quietly got up and exchanged his uncomfortable seat for a proper chair in one of the set spots.

'''Mione, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't appreciate you going behind my back; even if it was only to see the watch.'' Harry spoke; his works made Hermione lower her head and stare down at her hans on her lap shamefully, resembling a young child getting told off for being sneaky. ''Don't think too much into it; it's done now, and you did find useful stuff out. As for the Knockturn Alley visit…'' He paused, and leant on of his hands on Hermione's shoulder. ''I think I better be the one to do that. I'll go first thing tomorrow. Meanwhile, you just try to stay put. Hey!'' He exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her when she opened her mouth to protest. ''No complaining!''

''Fine.'' She muttered as Ron took a seat across from them on the table.

''Hermione, no offense, but I think you should let Kreacher cook supper tomorrow.''

''I'm starting to think tonight is ' _Let's make Hermione miserable_ ' night''

''It will be if you make this stew again.''

''Ronald!''

Their childish quarrel faded out instantly as the loud yelp of a Caterwauling Charm filled the house from top to bottom. The smiles on the trio fell abruptly; the dropped their forks and hastily drew their wands, running out of the kitchen and into the living room. The sound was deafening and it made Harry cringe apprehensively, as Ron and Hermione both covered their ears and looked around, alarmed.

''What's going on!?'' Ron yelled, though his words were drowned by the loud alarm. Just then, a glowing, white trail of light twirled over itself and swiftly morphed into the shape of a lynx.

'' _Activity sensed at the Malfoy Manor. Your presence is requested immediately at the scene_.'' And with those words, the Patronus vanished into thin air, leaving the Aurors glaring at an empty spot in front of them.

''That was Shacklebolt's. Let's go'' mumbled Harry as he grabbed Ron's forearm with one hand and Hermione's cloak with the other, rushing into the Fireplace that would Floo them to the scene. Hermione felt terror surge throughout her stomach as she pictured the mansion in which she'd been tortured a little over three years back. Her mind was racing, her head pulsing, and she could only begin to imagine what was going on through her friend's brain as he solemnly grabbed a handful of green powered and yelled _''Malfoy Manor!''._

* * *

 _A few hours earlier_

The wizard's body crashed into the floor with a strong thud. A quiet but deep groan of pain escaped his lips as he laid still on the floor and tried to push aside the pain of the fall. ''Bloody hell…''

''I don't recall giving you permission to speak.''

''Yes, well'' The wizard said, as he attempted to get back on his feet. ''I don't recall giving you permission to play ' _abduction and punching bag_ ' with me and yet, here we are.''

The other man huffed at his daring words and slowly started taking steps towards the blond.

''How rude of me.'' The tall, wide man was hovering over him; a smug, menacing smirk plastered on his face as he drew out his wand and pointed it directly to his neck. ''You do know why we're here, don't you?''

Draco rolled his eyes and finally managed to make it on his feet, feeling the sharp point of the wand stabbing at his neck the whole way up. ''You insult me.''

''You should start getting used to it. Unless, of course, some sense has finally made it into your brain and you have decided to make the right choice.''

The young wizard chuckled and suddenly felt a small drop of blood sneak its way into his mouth. He pretended not to notice, and nonchalantly stuck his hands into his pockets. ''That's a fine use of the word 'choice' right there.''

Earlier that afternoon, Draco Malfoy had been drinking a large cup of black coffee when he had decided that he was done with work for the day. He had tidied up his work space; cancelled every call and meeting that he had, and he'd calmly made his way out of the old building where he worked, without giving a second glance at his staff, who, perplexed, observed the man as he walked through the large hallway. Monday was an odd day to take the afternoon off, but, as always, they'd had no business wondering what the wizard was up to.

It had turned out, though, that somebody did know where he was heading. And they had diligently followed him, through narrow streets and busy squares, purposely trailing at his feet. The whole time, Draco eyed the man who walked behind him, and who had been making no effort to hide his intentions whatsoever; he'd slowly gotten closer to him, until the moment when he'd started walking right by his side.

Just as they had for the whole weekend, the protagonists of the new uprising had been attempting to get him joining the ranks.

This time was different, though. Draco couldn't recognize the man who had grasped the side of his robe and violently pushed him into a dark alleyway. He couldn't see the face of the wizard who had taken a hold of his wand and had stunned him so fast he'd crashed against the ground.

''Oh, but it _is_ a choice Mr. Malfoy. It is such an easy, problem-free choice. There's only one answer to it. What better sort of decision is there to make?''

''You people are downright daft. I have said no; and I'll continue saying no. I will not be taking part in this silly, childish crusade that will lead you all straight into Azkaban when you're caught. Merlin, no. I'd like to keep being filthy rich and publicly free, thank you very much.''

''You are a fool, Draco Malfoy. This could have been so much easier.''

Draco faked a laugh and glowered at the wizard in front of him, running a hand through his blonde locks as he spoke. ''Been there; done that. As lovely as I think your little quarrel is, masks don't really suit me that much. It would be unhealthy for this stunning face to remain in disguise…- ''

He couldn't finish speaking, because in a second the man had swung his fist against his face and had punched him right in the nose. Draco growled and a quiet 'crack' confirmed that his nose had just been broken by the man's hand. He breathed heavily, pain pulsing through his face, and slowly straightened his back once more, staring into the wizard's eyes. He couldn't help the smug attitude that gave him strength to remain on his feet; the obnoxious, daring words that made him feel like his pride was a little less hurt if he kept composure and remained unflinching.

He wasn't going to be able to hold it back much longer. He knew that, as he felt his teeth clench and his hands slowly draw into tight fists. His opponent hissed, calling his attention, and suddenly, the glare he was giving Draco was a different one. Darker, hardened, inescrutable brown eyes stared back into his own.

''You will be a part of this, whether you want to or not. Our hand will not tremble as we coerce your participation; through whatever means it may be. You will regret not taking this offer right here and now.''

Draco gulped and stared back at the man, trying his hardest to allow the well trained mask of indifference, which he knew well how to use, to cover his face. He wasn't talking back now; he could feel the change in the atmosphere. These visits they were paying him, he had a feeling, where going to be over soon.

''Fear for those you love most if you do not join us in our task to protect them.''

Those where the last words the bulky, hooded man said, before he threw Draco's wand on the floor and rapidly Disapparated before him. A wave of panicked worry took over Draco as he went through his last words in his head. _'Fear for those you love most…'_

''Mother''

Only the fading echo of the sudden muttering remained in the empty alleyway, and the characteristic sound of a wizard Disapparating took over the spot. Draco Malfoy diapered, leaving a trail of small drops of blood behind him.

* * *

When Harry, Ron and Hermione barged into the scene, they didn't even have time to step out of the fireplace before they were surrounded by a group of Aurors pointing their wands straight at them.

''It's just Potter, guys!'' Yelled one from the back, probably warning the others who couldn't see the wizard to put down their wands.

The Manor was all the same. The three of them stepped out of the Floo and, as Harry rushed to the Auror squad, Ron and Hermione took the time to look around quickly. It hadn't changed at all. A grand, spider chandelier hung above their heads in the main living space. Shady, gloomy walls filled with old, magical portraits surrounded them; rusty, grey wooden floors beneath them creaked as they made their way towards Harry. Discreetly, as though sensing Hermione's shaky knees, Ron slipped his hand into hers reassuringly, in hopes of erasing all memories of the girl laying helplessly on the floor in that same spot. Hermione lifted her gaze from the ground to smile gratefully at her friend. She could feel the scar pulsing, as if it could recognize the place where it was carved into her forearm.

Harry was put up to date by the Aurors. Behind them, Ron and Hermione listened intently. Apparently, the security wards which the Ministry had put up around the Manor (with the intention of keeping Mrs. Malfoy under her sentenced house arrest) had been broken just a few minutes before they'd arrived. The place seemed calm. They'd collected a small trace of Dark Magic when they'd arrived but it hadn't been enough to detect what other spells had been used.

''So there's been a break-in.'' Harry noted. ''But nothing's missing?''

A member of the team cleared their throat and spoke in reply. ''Actually, nothing is missing, Chief Potter. Somebody is.''

Hermione let a small gasp leave her mouth as she looked around at the nodding heads of the Aurors. Apparently, Narcissa Malfoy had either been kidnapped, or had miraculously gotten hold of a wand strong enough to let her break the Ministry's wards and escape. It was impossible, and highly improbable, and Hermione could see Harry's face as he struggled to make something out of the situation.

Just when Harry was opening his mouth to speak, a loud 'crack' broke the tense silence, and everybody in the room turned to look at the spot where Draco Malfoy had just clumsily appeared; wand in hand, tousled, platinum hair over his eyes and a trail of blood drawing from his nose all the way down to his shoes.

* * *

 _Hello there fellas! So good to post a chapter again! It took about a week; not too bad, but hopefully I'll have faster uploads! It's just been a messy one._

 _So, I really hope you enjoyed it! If you have questions, comments, opinions, suggestions etc. leave a review and I'll be more than glad to talk!_

 _Thanks for popping by and reading; see you soon I hope!_

 _Much love_

 _Hornedserpent16_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Anything you can recognize from the Harry Potter series, belongs to the great JKRowling and her team. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

No one breathed.

The atmosphere in the room was so thick, Ron could feel it making his head pulse. He was standing right behind Harry, picturing perfectly the bewildered expression which was surely taking over his face. He could sense Hermione's heartbeat racing inside her chest next to him. And not just sense it; their hands were still entwined from the small gesture of reassurance which he'd felt she had needed so bad at the time. So he could feel it, the rhythm of her fast-paced, brisk pulse palpitating into his own hand. She too, was staring ahead; her eyes drawn wide in confusion, and Ron recognized the way she looked from one side of the room to the other. Gears were turning inside her head; but it wasn't the only place. His own blue eyes were now directed straight at the blond wizard in front of them, an, only for a fraction of a second, he let himself wish that looks really could kill, and that his glare could be the dagger that would rip the man in half.

Suddenly, as if something had simultaneously clicked inside their buzzing heads, the Aurors around them jumped, and dispersed around the scene; their wands pointed straight at a disheveled, bloody Draco Malfoy, who was staring at all of them as if they were merely distractions who were keeping him from his aim. He wasn't bothering to let a single gaze linger on them; his grey eyes where roaming around the room; scanning the walls, the corridors which led to where they so unpoisedly stood. He even looked up at the ceiling; of all places. This seemed to awake something in Harry's brain, because he suddenly jolted, and drew his wand up to level his face.

''Get your wand out of my nose, Potter'' Draco spat.

''What the hell are you doing here?'' Harry's words sounded more like a demand than a question; a demand to explain the subtle coincidence of him Apparating precisely at that moment when there'd been signs of an attack, at accurately the spot where the activity had been picked up.

''What do you think? It's called the _Malfoy_ Manor, Potter, not the 'Useless-Auror-gathering' Manor. ''

The officials held their breath in rage at his insulting remark. Hermione felt her own scowl deepen and she scooped over to get a better view of the wizard's state. The first thing she noted was that he was wearing no cloak; no robes. Just a plain, ruffled black suit and a pair of -likely- shiny black shoes, which where now covered in dirt and rough scratches. Just like his face was. Aside from the evidently torn nose, he had a couple of dark red lumps plastered across his temple. His hair was falling over his eyes gracelessly, which, Hermione thought, didn't seem like it fit with his usual style. It _did_ fit with his current disheveled one, though. As he spoke back to Harry, she could've sworn seeing a little blood flying out of his mouth.

She frowned even deeper, realizing the worrisome circumstances in which he was immersed. It wasn't looking too good for him. She lowered her wand slowly and her eyes wondered to his with a mind of their own. Draco Malfoy; absolved, forgiven, forgotten. Except for a couple of punctual times in which she'd sheepishly scanned over the business section of the Prophet, she hadn't come across his face in a very, very long time. He had grown, no doubt. And apparently, he'd changed too. She was not too sure about the latter, but she _was_ certain that within the upcoming few seconds he'd better come up with a darn good alibi, or else his newly found spot in the 'exempt' section of society would be jeopardized. Hermione didn't think anybody in the room but Harry and her would even flinch at the thought of convicting him.

''Are you blind _and_ deaf Potter? I'm asking where the bloody hell she is!'' She heard his rough voice speak, and she snapped out of her watchful trance.

''Why are you desperately seeking her? And why do you look like you've just made it out of a battlefield?''

Harry held his posture. His wand was lowered; his back was straight. He was talking o Malfoy in a low, calm tone. It was a curious scene to watch; Draco's face couldn't be redder if he tried; Harry couldn't be more serene. His sharp but pastoral eyes staring right into the wizard, as the other, flushed and flustered, clenched his teeth and his fists simultaneously. ''Tell us, Malfoy.''

In a brusque, violent more, Draco stretched out his arms and harshly pushed Harry away from him, as he yelled, demanding to know his mother's state. Hermione felt a pang in her chest as she watched the young man's face crumble into a grim of desperation. But before Harry had even touched the floor, the Aurors sprung into his defense.

'' _Stupefy_!'' Somebody yelled, and in a moment, Draco's body was flying weightless across the room, only stopping as his body crashed into the walls, knocking the air out of his lungs as he hit the floor for the second time in the day.

From the back of the room, they all watched perplexed as the wizard grunted and attempted to get back up on his feet; his arms were shaking under his weight; his face was split with pain, and with a sudden smack, he was sprawled on the floor unconscious.

* * *

The room in St. Mungo's was small. A rectangular, window located on the back wall allowed the light to subtly leak into it; thought it wasn't excessive. White walls towered over a plain hospital bed and a couple of rusty armchairs. On the side, sat a small cupboard the size of a nightstand. It was cautiously locked.

Harry was sitting in one of the worn out chairs; his head was leaning into his hands and he was looking right ahead at the window, his eyes roaming pensively around the frame. It was the sixth time he'd analyzed the room in which he was. Sudden movement at his side caught his attention and he sat up, his eyes now drawn to the bed where a pale looking Draco laid peacefully. He was shifting, and his eyelids were starting to open slowly. Harry waited patiently for him to gather his memories and make out were he was.

''I know I'm rather dazzling, but I never thought I'd see _you_ next to me as I wake, Potter'' His cocky words were barely a grunt.

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes and he sighed, looking back at Draco with a serious semblance and a furrowed brow.

''They took her, didn't they? She's gone.''

His muttering took Harry by surprise. He was calm; at least on the outside, but his jaw was clenched tight, and he was bearing a scowl. Harry nodded lightly and leaned back on the chair, his eyes staring warily at the wizard in the bed.

''I need you to tell me what you know.''

''And why on earth would I do that?''

''Because its likely that she's in danger. We don't know what could happen to her for sure. We analyzed your wand, Malfoy. We know the last spells you used were all defensive, and we know where you Apparated from.'' Harry slid up his glasses on his nose with his hand and leant forward, elbows resting on knees. ''You left your office early, and some witnesses saw you walking in the street with an unidentified man on your heels.''

Draco huffed and his eyes shot up to the ceiling, refusing to look at the wizard sitting bedside. ''What would I gain from telling you? So far it seems the Auror department isn't stacking up many successes.''

''No, we certainly aren't.'' Harry answered careful not to let his annoyance show through his tight expression. ''Regardless, it's your duty to assist us.''

''Get off my case Potter. My duty to you was fulfilled long ago.''

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed, and got up from his chair. How could the man, still evidently weak and exhausted and fearing for his mother, hold his petulance so proudly above his head? He couldn't understand why Draco, under the circumstances he was in, would refuse to claim the merit of aiding the Department in their case.

He'd been giving a crazy idea some thought during the other wizard's slumber; just a little voice inside his head which was telling him that maybe he could make the tables turn. He could benefit from the situation; from Draco's position, from his close ties with his old housemates, from these criminal's insistence to take him into their crusade. He wouldn't hold anything over his head, but he would take advantage of the fact that they had mutual interests at stake.

He gave it a last stirring, stomach churring thought, and then he finally made his decision. An undiscussed, unheard-of, and very likely unpopular decision.

''We'll help you get her back if you work with us.''

Upon the words which so abruptly fell out of his mouth, Draco's head shot up. Harry couldn't help gulping after a few moments under his glare. Draco Malfoy wasn't intimidating, let alone scary. But the truth was, the insistence with which his mercury eyes scrutinized his own, was a little unsettling. He broke eye contact with him and took his seat back on the chair.

''Allow me to take a wild guess.'' Draco's voice was barely audible. His quiet mutter sounded rusty with resentment and ire. ''You want me to play bait for you, and in exchange you'll get the actual bait, which turns out to be my beloved mother, out of their hands.''

Harry slid his glasses up on his nose once again, and started getting up slowly.

''Basically, yes. We will give you protection, and, I can assure you, we will rescue your mother. And when she's out, we'll take this shameless group of bastards down.'' When the blond didn't answer, Harry walked a few steps back and reached out for the door. ''I'll leave you to think about it. Don't take long.''

''Is that a threat, Potter?''

''No, it's an order.''

And with that, Harry closed the door behind him and left a silently raging Draco fuming in his bed.

The wizard sat up and let out a long breath, in an attempt to cool down from his unnerved state. His mind was racing; he didn't know what to make of Harry Potter's offer. Surely he was going to get his mother out of those misborns' hands… The question was wether he would do it his way or somebody else's.

* * *

''What do you mean he's taken it?'' Hermione turned to look at the wizard who was hurriedly slipping into his training robes. ''Honestly Ron, can't you ever put those on before hand? You look like a mess.''

''The offer! Malfoy has taken it. Now we're gonna have to work with the pompous prick.'' Ron muttered, shaking his hand vigorously in a clumsy attempt to untangle his sleeve.

He and Hermione were walking through the door to the Auror Training Field. Said entrance consisted simply of a plain, wooden door with a mark reading ' _ATF'_ , adorned with a thick red arrow pointing to the gold handle. The first time Hermione had crossed it she'd been blown away; that narrow, sully, rusty piece of wood had been opened, and it had led the way to an unbelievably gigantic green field of freshly mowed grass, spell flying circuits and formations of wizards and witches, running around in a crazy sea of charms and incantations. She'd gaped, fascinated as always, and Ron had felt forced to try jam her mouth close with his hands, in order to avoid her making the slight ridicule. It was also because he'd known that if he didn't do it she would kill him afterwards.

Both of them had enlisted in aurorship and were currently in the process of becoming an official Auror. Of course, their contribution to the case was immobile and unquestioned, even if they weren't formally part of the department, as everyone in it knew better than to question Harry's decision to have them take part in it. Regardless, both of them had taken up the accelerated procedures of training and preparation and were already up to half the groundwork which they had to do in order to officially be in. It was a Tuesday, the day after the events at Malfoy Manor, and Ron was telling Hermione all about Harry's unlikely offer to Malfoy. As they spoke, they put their protective shields up and started completing the herculean circuits which covered the field; offensive, defensive, shielding and stunning spells flew out of their wants as the took cover behind the semi-walls, and ran across the high exposure zone to reach their targets. For every time they did, a heated, potent duel would take place and the circuit would be finished. For a few hours they had to switch and do all of the different routs and courses, until they were sweaty, and worn out, and they could almost feel their magical cores panting inside their bodies.

''Apparently… Malfoy got… back to… Harry last… night!'' Ron yelled over to Hermione, as he battled his own magical duel simulator. His breathing was uneven from the effort, but it didn't discourage him from extending his complaints.

''Ron, this is hardly the best ti…-AH!'' A hex flew past Hermione's ear so close she could still feel the energy of the spell tingling around her neck. ''I'm… sure whatever… Harry decided… will be for… the best!''

''Even… if it includes… Malfoy?''

With a last flick of her wrist, and a powerful yelp, Hermione blew her target's head off, sending its body flying across the flied. She stood still, panting, watching it hit the floor and shatter into a thousand pieces, and she tumbled to the floor exhaustedly, finally managing to breathe in.

''Even so.'' She said breathlessly, as she looked up at Ron and saw the way he threw his own target off. He was getting remarkably good at dueling, and getting past obstacles, and everything else, for that matter. Hermione sighed and brushed of some dirt which had stained the back of her uniform robes when she'd sat.

Of course, the thought of working with Malfoy sent cold shivers traveling up her spine. And not the nice type of shivers. He was a mouthy, spineless, childish prat and having to share even a breathing space with him made Hermione want to jump out of the closest window and run off to the nearest cliff. She didn't agree with Harry's decision; not close. But she respected whatever his choices were and she would stand with him as he fulfilled them, however tedious, unappetizing, cringing those choices were.

Ron, however, Hermione knew would put up a good fight. Even if so unconsciously.

''Come on, let's head back. I'm bloody exhausted; maybe we can catch Harry on his way out.'' Ron offered a hand to her and helped her incorporate; she smiled appreciatively and spoke.

''Why don't you get a head start and I'll catch you later? I want to go over a couple of documents up in the Depp. of Magical Creatures before I go. You know, just check out how everything's doing without me there.'' She shrugged and walked next to the wizard as they made their way towards the exit.

''Merlin, 'Mione, what are you expecting to find? Catastrophe and debacle just because you've not been there in a month? '' He snickered teasingly at the witch, who crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

''Prick.'' She muttered. Ron answered with a careless laugh and he ruffled her hair affectionately before heading towards the door.

''See you at home!''

''See you.''

Half an hour later, Hermione had showered quickly in the _ATF'_ s changing rooms, she'd slipped into her work robes and was making her way out of the department as if unscathed, in her short, hurried steps and her absent minded demeanor.

Her thoughts trailed to the recent events. Now Malfoy was taking part in all of it; he'd be in, just like that, all of a sudden. She wondered what Harry's plans were for the wizard… Would he pull strings from the high ranks? Would he solely give up information? She couldn't help thinking that he would slither back into the hole of regret which he'd apparently roamed in for the last three years, and he'd get cold feet, retreat into the safety of his favored Slytherin status. Then, a picture of his eyes like melted pewter, glaring and drawing desperately from one side to the other, barking for the sake of his mother, flashed across her mind… She felt a pang of guilt in her chest, and decided to shake the thoughts out of her head and let them rest for the time being.

She was so deep into her introspection, that when she abruptly came back to reality, she found herself at a completely different place to where she'd intended to go. She looked around the narrow corridor, befuddled, and slowly started making her way towards where she'd unsurely guessed she'd come from. Soon, she came across some restrooms. Hesitantly, she chose to look inside, in the dubious hopes that it would contain a transporting cabin thinking it could lead her back to the arrival hall.

As she was looking around the witches' loo, she realized that where she'd ended up was probably a very reduced area of the Ministry, and she'd have to walk to a bigger, known place in order to get back to the main lobby. As she was just about to make her way out, she heard two male voices coming from the other side of the door. She stopped on her tracks and leant lightly into it; the curious, nosey, unwise girl inside of her telling her that the likeliness of this being an ordinary, everyday chit chatter was highly limited. The spot where they stood was far too sheltered for such. It was an intended location.

''… last Thursday.''

''So you mean, before…?''

''Indeed.''

''And?''

''And, what? ''

''And, go on; tell me what they said. Who were they? And why you?''

Hermione opened her eyes wide, as she guessed the direction the conversation was taking. Could they be talking about it? She couldn't decipher well their voices. Almost ripping over her own feet, she scoffed at herself and cast a silencing charm, so that her shuffling wouldn't bring any attention. Slowly, she slid further in onto the door, and with the most carefully trembling hands, she opened the door just enough to let the muffled sound sneak in.

''What's got you so interested? They wanted me in. I don't think it'd be wise to divulge any different stories. Don't be nosey, it won't bring you any good. Not in this case, at least.''

She opened her eyes wide and clasped her hand over her mouth; she knew that voice. It was Theodore Nott, a Slytherin in their year. She could recognize the snobbish, sleek and bragging tone of his voice. He'd been one of the brightest Slytherins back in Hogwarts, along with (unfortunately) Draco Malfoy, and she remembered him liking to remind her of it. He and Malfoy were also close friends, from what she gathered. And know she could picture his tall, boyish, slim figure towering over an unknown man, as he spoke about the damned people who were also actively trying to recruit him. Nott hadn't been particularly insufferable at school, that she recalled. He was discreet, passive, uninterested. Not avidly detestable like Malfoy; but rather preferred silently glaring and looking at everybody from under his nose. Now that she thought about it, he _was_ rather tall. Maybe he couldn't help looking down on people.

She shook off her silly thoughts and carried on listening.

''Did you accept?''

''And you stand here expecting me to disclose my actions to _you_? I'm rather tired of this conversation. I'm getting nothing out of it; and it would be unfair for you to obtain such juicy content and I not.''

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. _'These Slytherins and their incessant impertinence';_ she thought. The distinct sound of fading footsteps made her lean back and drop her shoulders. The man had probably left after Nott's cranky comment; this was her cue to leave too. She undid the silencing spell, gathered herself and discreetly opened the door to the corridor. She didn't make it far though, for as soon as she walked out, she bumped into a large body hovering at the door.

Bewildered, Hermione looked up to find herself standing face to face with Theodore Nott's deep blue eyes. The wizard looked less than impressed, and at the same time, she realized, quite smug to have caught her dirty handed.

''I…'' She stammered, as she felt a furious blush taking over her face. Upon her flustered attempt at speaking, Theodore let out a cool chuckle.

''Merlin, Granger. I didn't know you had such a violent blood flow.'' His casual comment made the witch turn a shade darker ''Now, now; this sudden flush wouldn't have to do with my imposing, overwhelming presence, would it?''

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted; she thankfully felt her cheeks starting to cool down. ''You wish, Nott. I'm just passing by.''

''Ah, passing by.'' Theo repeated her words sarcastically; his eyes were clung onto Hermione's. For some reason, she started to feel slightly overpowered; his gaze was too piercing; it made her feel as if he was looking inside of her, reaching for the darkest corner of her being and tearing it open like an unsealed book… Suddenly, something clicked in her brain, and she realized what he was doing.

'' _Protego_ '' She murmured. Theodore Nott was a Legilimens; he was an expert in Occlumency. She could just tell, from the way he glowered so intently, unmoving eyes, unflinching expression. He was trying to sneak into her mind, and something told her he'd managed to.

''Smart witch. Did my ogling give me away? I couldn't help myself.'' His voice was unaltered, even and calculated. He eyed Hermione up and down, and the witch frowned and shifted uncomfortably. She could feel herself getting angry. Empty compliments from sly wizards weren't her cup of tea. She bit her tongue though, when she realized she couldn't deny it made her knees slightly wobbly.

''You shouldn't have tried that.'' She stated, trying to speak as calmly as he was.

''Yes; we all sometimes do things we shouldn't… Don't we? Like the extensive eavesdropping you just so successfully carried out. Truly admirable, Granger. Didn't think you had it in you.''

''You didn't accept, did you?'' She ignored his attempts to unnerve her, to make her react.

Their eyes were still clung. She blushed again, only this time less evidently, and saw Theo's thin lips twist into a smirk. What was she doing standing there still?

''Always expecting the best in people. What a Gryffindor.''

''Speak, Nott.''

''As a matter of fact, I didn't. Though I've heard they're quite insisting. Never has being so emotionally detached from the world come in so handy.''

Hermione nodded unconsciously, and she felt a twinge of sympathy at her chest; was he so alone, that he feared for no one? He sure had to be a hollow man, to have such an isolated view of life. And who would have thought, she'd actually be having a civilized conversation with him? Certainly not herself.

''They will threaten you. Make your daily life impossible until you accept.''

''I know the drill, Granger. But I'd rather have that, than have another endless hearing at the Wizengamot with my uncertain future in your friend Potter's hands, like last time.'' He was talking about the trial at the end of war; Hermione recalled it was the one Malfoy was also absolved at. The one in which Harry interceded for all of them. ''What is it that you want, now that I've told you?''

Maybe she could turn this situation round. Maybe, this was another chance at getting insight for the case; maybe he could be of additional help, just like Malfoy was. Help which they wouldn't have ever got, had it not been for fate, which had led her there. There, in that precise moment, in the middle of that precise conversation. She braced herself, and without going over it again, she let it out.

''You'd never have to endure that, or anything else for that matter, if you worked for us.'' Her words had the effect she expected: Nott stepped back in surprise. It was the first spontaneous, facial expression which she'd seen on him. ''Work with us, against them, and you'll have protection, immunity, and even recognition, if you must.''

''Well, I wasn't expecting such power of persuasion from goody-two-shoes-Granger.'' His words were almost a sneer. ''Why are you even offering me this? What makes you think I would take it?''

''Literally nothing. Your face is more pressed than Merlin's cloak. But I know you're acceptably intelligent; which kind of settles it.'' Hermione spoke quickly and without thinking and feel heat rising to her face when the wizard laughed at her words.

''Acceptably intelligent? I'm acceptably insulted. But if you'll blush like that every time you insult me, then please, go ahead and do so.'' He smirked (' _Do these Slytherins ever actually smile?'_ she thought to herself) ''I'm in, Granger. You deal with Potter and I'll be waiting for his response.''

And with that, he eyed her up and down one last time, and walked off in an unhurried, overconfident gait. Hermione drew her hand up to her chest, where, she noted, the tension of the moment had done its effect. It'd been civil, it'd been improper, and it'd probably given them another invaluable advantage in the case. Also, it'd probably given her a circulation problem.

' _These snobs will be the end of me'_

* * *

 _HELLO! I'm so excited to be posting again! Honestly, I tried to upload earlier, but this week's been cray cray, and I couldn't edit and correct until today. Sorry!_

 _Still, here you have it, and I made it extra long for you guys. And_ _ **Theodore Nott**_ _! I love his character, and I couldn't wait to play with it. He's a peaceful, rational version of our hot headed Draco; a smartass, but just as petulant as him. These Slytherins indeed…_

 _Anyways, if you liked it, if you didn't, if you spot mistakes, if you love/hate/don't care about me.. REVIEW! And I'll gladly get back to you with any answers!_

 _Always great to see you, thank you for reading, and following, and favoriting.. Just thank you in general!_

 _Love yous_

 _Horned Serpent_


	5. Chapter 5

_Just some thoughts before you dive right in!;_

 _First of all; YES, Hr/D is coming soon; NO I won't keep you waiting much longer for the much awaited interaction, bear with me!_

 _Second of all YES, H/G will be further addressed too throughout these upcoming chapters, I haven't abandoned our second favorite redhead!_

 _Third of all: YES; I will also further expound the antimuggle group and their treacheries, I have a very specific set of mind about how I will introduce you to it, thank you for being patient!_

 _And over all, thank you to all those who trust in me to entertain and move you! I will do my best to live up to it and make of this everything you could ask for. I appreciate you keeping up and being here, thank you!_

 _Much love, and now I shall let you go on in…_

 _Horned Serpent_

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** Every character, scenery or story line which you can recognize belongs to the greatest JKRowling. I'm merely a fiddler. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

* * *

CHAPTER 5

''Harry darling! It's so good to see you!''

Harry stumbled back a little when the short, eager woman launched herself in his direction and wrapped her strong arms around him. He laughed lightly, a feeling of familiar warmth taking over his body and hugged the woman back lightly.

''You too Mrs. Weasley! Sorry for missing last Sunday brunch, you know how it can get at work.''

''Nonsense, Harry! I'm perfectly happy knowing my favorite boy is keeping all of us safe and sound. There's tea outside dear, come!''

''I thought I was your favorite, mum!'' Ron's teasing tone was heard as he popped his head inside the kitchen. ''Hello again, mate.''

Harry laughed and thanked Molly as he walked towards the garden. He'd seen Ron that same morning during breakfast, since they lived together, and they'd parted ways short minutes after that despite their joint intentions to have tea at The Burrow. Ron had left the house to go meet George at the shop, while Harry had been going over and over the case files adding new information, which had been provided by Malfoy, as well as his collaboration details and his mother's file. He later had met Remus for lunch after his arrival from his latest mission. He'd taken the watch from the office, deciding to take it back to Knockturn Alley, and was now carrying it magically sealed in his pocket hoping he would have the time to do so before their evening meeting.

They walked over the unevenly mowed grass and took seat at the round, wooden table which sat in the ample backyard. Ron noticed Harry's nervous fidgeting at his uniform robes and realized that his friend was growingly impatient; his small frown and his traveling eyes gave him away.

''She'll be down in a second.'' Ron assured him. Harry limited his answer to nodding and giving out a small, tense smile. It was incomprehensible to Ron how the wizard could still get all flustered every time he was to see his girlfriend of many years. Perhaps these feelings, this anticipation and nervousness and eagerness was what had been missing when Hermione and him had attempted to take their friendship to a new level. Maybe that's part of the reason why it didn't work.

He shook the thoughts from his head, which automatically shot up as a high pitched shriek coming from the entrance broke the serene silence in the garden. Ginny was walking - no; Ginny was _galloping_ towards Harry frantically; her arms were spread, reaching for him, and her hair was undone and swirling behind her like a blanket of fiery silk. Ron burst out laughing as the girl literally launched herself at Harry. He had the smile of a daft idiot drawing his lips, as he hugged her back and tried exceedingly hard no to fall back on his arse under her enthusiastic weight.

Resigned, Ron got up from his chair and announced he was going inside to help his mother; but her was almost sure neither of the two heard, since they were too busy burying themselves in each other's arms and smiling like utter idiots. He sighed, and left them to their leisure.

''Why did you take so long?'' Ginny said, her accusing tone muffled by Harry's cloak.

''I know, you don't know how sorry I am. I promise, I was dying to see you, Gin. So much has happened this week, I don't even know where to start from.'' He buried his nose in her tousled hair and pleasantly sniffed her hair, taking in her soft fragrance of waterlilies and strawberry sorbet.

''Try the beginning. My dad told me a few things that were on the Prophet on Tuesday because I had training and didn't get time to read it.'' She shifted in his arms and clung onto them tighter as Harry took seat and snuggled her on his lap.

''So you know what happened at the Manor, then.'' He waited for her to nod and then continued. ''We're working with Malfoy to help return her mother safely and he's working with us to take down the antimuggle group.''

''You.. _what_?''

He paused.

''We're working with Malf -''

''I'm not deaf Harry! Just shocked. Whose idea was this again?''

''It was mine.''

'' _What_?''

Harry laughed and leant back to look at her puzzled expression.

''It seemed like a good deal at the time.'' Harry said, shrugging.

''Does that mean you regret it?''

''Not close; I've got the feeling that he's the key to this mission.''

''Hasn't he been doing nothing apart from appearing in gossip society columns in Witch Weekly?''

''That's what I thought; apparently he's a huge businessman now. Highly esteemed.'' Upon his words, Ginny lifted her eyebrows and smiled, confused.

''Whatever; enough about him. Come here.'' She demanded, her arms reaching out to him again. He didn't take a second to lean into her and put his lips over hers; he noticed how she lifted the corners of her mouth upwards, smiling lightly against the kiss, and he felt a jolt of pure joy surge through him. He could never get used to her sweet taste, and her bossy hands, making their way over his chest. Her pale skin felt like silk under his fingers as he softly caressed the nape of her neck. She sighed into his lips, and Harry could swear that whatever was awaiting in the upcoming weeks would mean close to nothing next to the feeling of her tingling breath mixing with his in his mouth.

''Just remember that you have to come to my Quidditch tryouts, okay? So try not to get yourself severely harmed.'' She whispered to his neck. Harry nodded absentmindedly, his hands were drawing soft circles on her back and his chin was resting on her head. She sighed, resigned, as she realized that he probably hadn't hear a single word that she had said.

* * *

 _A few hours later._

Hermione tumbled lightly as she apparated in the middle of an empty street. The slam of her shoes against the cobblestone floor echoed loudly among the surface of the grey, gravel buildings around her. She had materialized in a dimly lit alley just which was spotted right behind her intended destiny.

She dusted her neat robes, and started making her way towards the entrance of the pub. As she entered, her eyes curiously inspecting the surroundings, the distinctive ring of a tiny bell above her head called the attention of a bedraggled wizard who simply gazed at her from behind a large, rusty desk.

She nodded at him softly, and was relieved to find he cautiously answered it back. It was, as she'd foreseen, safe to be holding their small encounter in the pub. Hog's Head Inn was a regular spot for their bunch to carry out secret gatherings a small reunions, away from the prying and intruding eyes of people who would gladly give what they had to find out what they were up to. Hermione slid off her cloak as she headed for the usual booth in the back of the room. ''Booth'' was probably an overestimation; it was crammed bunch of timeworn chairs sitting aimlessly around a rectangular table. Disturbingly comforting, for such dreary decor.

Still, she felt a small smile creep into her lips as she pulled one of the chairs back and took a seat breezily. The place brought her tender memories from their long gone Hogwarts years.

She sighed nostalgically and was glad to have taken the decision to arrive in time to the meeting; she wanted a few minutes of peacefulness and serenity to herself before the others got there, given that their little reunion was probably going to require every fiber of strength she could gather. It was going to be a long day.

As she dwelled on the situation absentmindedly, the characteristic ring of the bell made her jerk awake and turn around to spot the arrival.

Much to her chagrin, a certain blond wizard enjoyed too the perks of being sharp on time. She was starting to think that maybe it wasn't such a good thing to arrive so punctually to these affairs. She took a mental note for the upcoming ones.

Before que could notice her presence, she ducked her head lightly and pretended to be unaware of his. A series of accelerated thoughts crossed her mind in that moment. She hadn't exchanged a word with Draco Malfoy in more than three years time; she wondered what he was like now. He couldn't be much different, could he? Was he still a childish brat? Or had the war dawned its effects on him, as it had with so many others? Starting with herself, Hermione could easily tell apart the people who'd gone through the war from the people who'd tiptoed around it. It was like an aura; like an ambience of solemnity. She pictured Malfoy and the deep, dark bags under his eyes; she pictured his slender frame and his aristocratic sauntering around the corridors at school. She recalled his furtive glares; his fleeting eyes, his paling skin… Maybe war had left its scars on him too.

So she made a deal with herself that she wouldn't just assume. That she wouldn't suppose, or presume, or guess. She would try to remember that there had been a losing side the war, and that the said had taken its tall on them. Overall, she tended to remind herself daily that all war had been was just a ruthless, brutal game of chess which had left its pawns broken and scattered all along the way.

Gathering her thoughts and composing herself, surprised by her own pitiful dwelling, she turned her head around feeling someone stand right behind her. For an instant, she started to feel slightly awkward and uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat. Hermione didn't particularly enjoy having someone hovering behind her back, and she had no idea why Malfoy would just stand there, behind her, instead of taking a seat. After a few minutes, in which her temperature had rocketed and her state of merciful nostalgia had noticeably evaporated, she spoke.

''Well? Are you going to sit? Or are you going to just hover around like a damn ghost?''

She cursed inwardly… Had she not promised not to get riled up just two minutes before?

''Getting all fussy now, Granger?'' The wizard shifted from behind her and took seat across the table. ''I always knew you weren't the type to take things from behind.''

A snobbish, unbearable smirk was plastered so smugly on his face that it made her teeth clench with ire.

 _To hell with the goddamn deal._

''Yes, well, I always knew you were an arrogant, self-centered imbecile. Why are we pointing out personal attributes?''

To her surprise, the man across from her chuckled.

''I can see some things will never change.'' He said, with a tint in his voice which spoke louder than his words. The atmosphere shifted for a few seconds, and Hermione found herself appreciating the change. That was, until he spoke again. ''That helpless mane of yours still resembling an unfortunate nest of wild birds… How nostalgic.''

Hermione was red with fury. She felt her lips pressed tight angrily, her head pulse, and her hands shake menacingly. The wizard could make her feel like a sixth year student all over again in a fraction of a second.

''Some of us like to use our head for more important things than carrying it around on our shoulders. I suppose you're not much used to the concept.''

She mentally slapped herself. There it was, the silly bidirectional childish quarrel which she'd been so glad to have lived without for so long. Why did she have to have such a short temper?

''Swot.''

''Really, Malfoy? That's what you come up with? I'm actually not even surprised at your lame excuse for a comeback.''

''Oh, don't get too excited. I always like to save best for last.''

She couldn't help making her eyes roll in the most exaggerated, annoyed demeanor.

''Save it, if you're kind enough.''

''I'm actually not -''

''You know what? Even better, don't speak. Close that pretty, little, arrogant, dim witted mouth of yours and save me the trouble of doing it myself.''

 _Well, that was mature, Hermione_. She thought to herself, groaning inwardly.

''So you think my mouth is pretty, and you want to close it yourself? Granger, I'm not coming close to you any time soon, you're shockingly eager.''

''Prat.'' She snapped. She needed to break the cycle before it became never-ending, so she decided to try out a new tactic.

''And you lecture _me_ on unoriginal insults? Hardly seems fair.''

''Good.''

''So short worded all of a sudden. Did you bite your own tongue?''

She took a deep breath. ''Sure.''

''Merlin, if this is the wit you so openly brag about, then you represent failure at its finest.''

''Thanks.''

''Granger, answer me fully when you speak to me.'' He slammed the table with open hands.

Hermione couldn't help the laugh that surged through her as she hear the words leave his mouth. When she composed herself and stared at the wizard, her smile faltered. There it was, his edge, his breaking point. He was _raging._ His eyes where fuming with impatience; his brow furrowed to say the least. A slight tick on his eyebrow gave his irritated state away. So maybe it wasn't her, the one with the short temper, after all; though it did seem like the things which altered Malfoy where completely opposite to what unnerved her. He was unaffected by insults, or by witty comebacks, but he couldn't deal with being out of control, with not being the authority. He couldn't deal with disregard of formalities, with rebelling to manners.

She couldn't blame him, come she think about it. It's not like he was at his best; tension was probably crammed up all the way from head to toe in the tall, slim man. Maybe he needed to prove that he could still be in control of some aspects of his life. She found herself empathizing with him once more, as easily as that. He huffed, upon her not answering, and leant back on his chair crossing his arms over his chest. When he turned and looked to the side in a crisp twist of his head, she snuck a few furtive glances at him.

He was calm and composed, but his face was contorted lightly in what looked like annoyance. She sighed, and crossed her own arms over her chest, mimicking his earlier moves. What a successful first encounter. Working with him was probably not going to be as easy as she'd imagined.

''Don't hold your breath, Malfoy.''

He turned his head towards her again, and she felt herself shrink a little when he sent daggers flying from his stormy grey eyes.

''I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.''

Just when the conversation was taking a dangerous turn, the entrance bell rang and two people made their way inside. Hermione sighed, relieved, when she saw Harry strutting towards the table. Ron followed close behind; he spotted her and waved his hand lightly. The witch couldn't muffle a small giggle when she saw Ron's freckly nose wrinkle in annoyance upon spotting Malfoy.

The blond's reaction consisted of a derogative sneer.

Soon, the four of them were sat around the table, eyes jumping from one another hoping it wouldn't be themselves breaking the silence. After a few minutes, during which Hermione could feel Malfoy's eyes intensely set on her face (utterly incommodious would have been her only way to describe it), Harry set both hands on the table and cleared his throat.

''Right. Let's get this over with.''

Ron's eyes were switching from Harry to Malfoy continuously from that moment onwards. He closely watched the blond's guarded expression; his steady, cool eyes, as Harry spoke and he listened; his clenched fists as he punctually mentioned his mother. Ron stuck to fidgeting with his wand and gliding his fingers over the rough surface of the table; as Harry had requested he do before they got there. He was uncomfortable, still. Bearing wariness very evidently on his face, he shifted in his seat and listened to Malfoy's ragged voice as he asked questions and interjected with occasional complaints. _''Crap is all that one is. Utter crap.''_ Ron thought.

He heard Hermione's timid input and couldn't help but glance at the way she avoided Draco's eyes. He figured the man had probably put her off already. He wondered if she was trying to remain detached, unaffected, in order to benefit the case. He certainly wasn't; Ron was positive he currently bore around six shades of different angry-red on his face. He couldn't help that the sole wizard's presence made his blood boil and his teeth clash. He directed his attention to Draco, who was speaking in that moment.

''… they go by a name, but they didn't give those bullcrap details to me. Anyways; I'd like to, being the gentleman that I am, spare you some trouble. I know what you want me to do. I also know you haven't even got a proper plan, except for your persistent _'Let's just get in there and see what it's like'_ strategy, which, honestly, is a very lazy tactic at this point in your career, Potter, and it could only convince this blindly overachieving swot to your right and the witless primate to your left.''

''They go by a name?'' Hermione interjected, trying very hard to ignore his insults. She gently rested her hand on Ron's shoulder, feeling his hands shaking in fury.

''Granger, did you really grasp _that_ out of everything I just said? You are bafflingly overestimated.''

''I grasped all of it, including your impolite and disrespectful remarks.'' She snapped. ''I'm just curious to know the name. It might give us some clues about their intentions.''

''Hermione, Malfoy already told us their intentions…''

''I seriously doubt _'blasting up muggles'_ counts as having told us their intentions.''

Malfoy hissed, angrily, and narrowed his eyes, glowering at her.

''My patience is wearing thin, Granger.''

''- Malfoy.'' Potter interrupted, staring steadily at Draco. It wasn't a glare, but it was close enough. Harry wouldn't spend the little time they got to speak with silly arguments and childish bickering. Draco seemed to understand (and to remember where he was and why he has there) because he leant back on his chair and acutely ignored Ron and Hermione for the rest of the conversation, which therefore took place exclusively between Harry and Draco, while the other two listened. Malfoy occasionally stole a quick glance at Hermione's soft scowl and her small, wrinkled nose, though he did so in absolute discretion, while he recalled how angering the witch had previously been.

''Yes… em - Hermione. Is there anything else I might have forgot?'' Harry eyed his small note pad rapidly and then shut it close.

''I don't think so.'' She answered, biting her lip and glancing nervously at Draco. It would be, without a doubt, a crazy, surreal month. Even with Draco's insulting remarks, she couldn't help the sympathy which tugged at her heart when she stared back into his pewter eyes and remembered the mess he was in. How uncannily he must love his mother.

Draco uncrossed his arms and slid them over the table, as he starting speaking, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

''Astounding. So let me just go over the wondrous plan one last time: Infiltrate the 'crusade', look for my mother, gather useful information, avoid killing, avoid mutilating, avoid harming, avoid spilling secrets, get back to you fellows every Thursday at midnight right here, ignore Weasel, unnerve Granger, spite Pothead…''

''You're a comedy genius, Malfoy.'' Potter sighed sternly.

''No need to lick my boots Potter. I'm aware of my overbearing skills.''

Hermione snorted, Ron huffed (still keeping his thoughts to himself), and Potter grabbed the length of his robes and incorporated from the chair. The rest followed suit, standing up around the table.

''Alright, so our work for today is done. Malfoy, try not to drown in your overbearingness and get a move on as soon as possible. We will be expecting information soon.''

Hermione was almost sure Draco would answer back; but he didn't. He bit his tongue, he dryly nodded his head to him and turned around, leaving the pub without looking back as the three of them dropped their shoulders and watched his overconfident, swift strides disappear behind the door.

''Spineless, selfish twat.'' Ron blurted out, as soon as the blonde hair was out of sight. He closed his eyes, relieved to have finally let it out, and turn around towards Hermione and Harry. ''Next time, I'm telling him to his face. The bloody git's got no problems with doing it to the rest of us. Let's see how many insults that damned albino ferret can take before stupid smirk falls off.''

Hermione eyed him amusedly and turned to Harry, watching the small smile that was also creeping into his lips. It was always good to see him be smiling carelessly, spontaneously, unconcerned… and she suspected his visit earlier to the Burrow had the most to do with it this time.

''If you ought to…. Dibs on keeping count!'' Said Hermmione. Harry sighed, shaking his head amusedly, and started walking out.

Just moments later, the three of them arrived at Grimmauld Place 12 and exhaustedly crawled into their respective beds, each running an inconsistent and likely unfavorable thought of Malfoy through their minds.

* * *

''Malfoy!''

''…''

''Malfoy! For Merlin's sake!''

The blonde still didn't answer; and the man behind him huffed, being able to see the gentle flourish of his black robes as he turned the corner. He tightened his pace and reached out to him, grabbing his cloak from behind.

''Draco!''

''What do you want, Nott?''

''Whatever you're bearing this foul mood for, I recommend you do not lash it out on me.''

Draco sighed and turned around to face Theo properly. It'd only been a few weeks since he'd seen him, and he wondered what the wizard could need his assistance for so fervently. Still; he had no desire to strike up a long, tiresome conversation with the man who always knew how to step on everybody's toes. This man knew way too much too many times for his own good.

Slightly flushed from his trotting, Theo straightened up and let go of Draco's cloak, with an indifferent expression washing over his face.

''So? What do you need?''

''I want to discuss an important matter.''

''Yes well, I figured as much.'' Draco snapped moodily. He really could do without wasting time at the moment. ''I took the day off, and it's almost eleven, Nott. This can surely wait a few hours.''

''Underestimating my conversational skills?'' Theo narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. His steady, unaffected mask was on. Draco had known him for enough time to gather that there was always going a lot more under that façade. It was a Slytherin trait, though, which he too had acquired long ago. Theo was better than Draco cared to admit at hiding his emotions. Undeniably better than himself.

''I know better.''

''Good.'' He waited for Draco to stop his snickering and started talking. He was looking at him intently. Not too intently, he was being discreet, but Draco knew better. He felt his thoughts go a little hazy, and his hand jolted up, grabbing the neck of Theo's robes harshly.

''Don't even try.'' He hissed spitefully.

Theo merely chuckled amusedly and lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. ''Just wanted to check something.''

''Check what?'' Draco asked, suspiciously. ' _It couldn't be'…_ He couldn't _possibly_ know. It hadn't even been two days since he'd accepted Potter's offer, and omniscient omnipresent Theodore Nott already knew? How was it possible? He shook his head lightly, and decided that it wasn't likely that he was aware of the actual situation.

''Well… I seem to have taken on a new venture. I was somehow under the impression that you might have, too.''

''What gave you that said impression? And what is this venture you're going on about?'' Draco made the greatest effort to hold a steady gaze and an unflinching expression; but he was positive Theo could see right through him regardless, and not even needing to use Legilimency.

''Let me give you a clue; the Golden Trio springs into action once more and now they're being smart enough to have a couple of unexpected - but exceedingly useful regardless - members.''

Draco let his mouth drop open a little in surprise, gaping at him. So Potter hadn't only recruited _him_? ' _Now they even had Nott?'_ He was utterly befuddled, and Theo seemed to notice, because his shoulders started shaking with laughter.

''What kind of damned clue is that, Theo?''

''None. I don't like clues; it's wasting one's time in the hopes that a less capable being than one's self will figure out a wholly perfectly imaginable situation, and even helping them in their attempts. Useless.''

''So, Potter recruited you?''

''Ah, I knew this would spark your interest. No, he didn't.''

His answer made a very impatient Draco's temperature shoot and his teeth clench with annoyance. ''Then what in Merlin's name are you going on about? You absolute brat!''

Theo shrugged and Draco watched as he attempted to wipe the cocky smile of his face. But he knew just how much he couldn't. Draco himself couldn't ever do it. Now it was causing him a great deal of inconvenience and a grand, pulsing headache. He drew his hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly unnerved to unknown extents.

''I said Potter didn't recruit me. And he didn't; Granger did. A couple of days ago. And I spoke to them and figured that it was likely they'd given you the same foreseeable mission; infiltrate; remain pure; pass information. So, this obtuse conversation which we are holding right now is my frustrated attempt at a request. I'd thought it to be very advantageous if we participated in each other's acceptance.''

''You want to hold hands at cry about our dreadful misfortune?''

''Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. I just want to hold hands; crying is definitely pushing it.''

* * *

 _Ta-daaaa_

 _Chapter 5 is done! So happy how it came out. And two days early, too!_

 _Thank you so much for reading, for favoriting and following and reviewing and all your love in general! You have absolutely NO idea how much I appreciate it. I love you guys, hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did!_

 _Much love_

 _Horned Serpent_


	6. Chapter 6

_SORRY! I know I'm late, but this week has just been the busiest ever! I swear every week gets crazier and crazier over here! Bear with me! Anyways, just to show you how thankful I am that all of you are here, I made it extra long! I also couldn't help_ _myself._

 _Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoy!_

 _Review! I want to know your opinions!_

 _Much love;_ _Horned Serpent_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : Every character; scenery of canon storyline which you can recognize full belongs to lady JKRowling. I own nothing except for the fiddling with them, and I make no profit from it whatsoever.

* * *

Chapter 6

''They said they would answer by midnight.''

Draco Malfoy's worried mumbles had been the only source of conversation Theo'd had for the last two hours. He sighed, and looked over at Draco condescendingly, while the wizard paced impatiently around his office, walking back and forth in a hurried, brisk step. He, on the other side, was comfortably sprawled on a black leather armchair which sat next to the fireplace.

''It's 5 past, Draco.'' Theo answered sheepishly; his hands holding a lengthy parchment roll which was unrolled and resting over his lap. ''If you keep running around like that you'll eject the remains of your pricey dinner. It's hardly recommendable. And believe me, I'm in no mood to see its contents.''

Draco huffed and walked towards his ample desk. He leant back on it, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his teeth clenched forcefully and his breathing rapid and shallow. He was utterly shaken. Anger and impatient worry leaked out of every pore in his body. The only thing which he'd been capable of thinking about ever since he and Theo had sent their acceptance (a couple of days before) was his mother. He _had_ to do everything in his bleak power to get her back. He constantly wondered if she'd been hurt, if they were treating her decently… Draco liked to think that Zabini and Parkinson's presence could ensure a certain guarantee of safety, but he didn't count too much on it. So all he'd been doing for the last couple of days, much to his despair, was waiting. He hated waiting; he'd never been patient, or even-tempered, or serene. He abhorred intervals, halts; he couldn't sit down and watch time waste away while he stood helpless and filled with flesh-eating frustration.

Theo sat and watched for a while as Draco's face twitched and wrinkled in an endless series of shapes. When he finally reached the conclusion that the blond's head was in danger of spinning off his shoulders, he stood up.

''Let's go. I can't bear to listen to your impatient grunts any longer.''

''Sod off.''

''Draco, this is no way of waiting.''

''So, go! I'd rather do so on my own anyway.''

''Don't be difficult, I'm only suggesting we drop by a pub and make some time there. We'll have a drink, come back soon and check if it's here or not.''

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

''No.''

Theo sighed amusedly and mimicked the other wizard's moves.

''It's not going anywhere. You're being a child.''

''And you're being bloody annoying.'' Draco snapped. He shut his mouth and brusquely turned towards the fireplace.

''I have to say, your temper's worsened severely with age. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend since '98.'' At Theo's comment, Draco blushed lightly.

''I didn't realize I was speaking with jolly and gracious Casanova.'' He snapped, his eyes narrowing lightly as Theo chuckled amusedly. ''Besides, I've been busy. It's not like I've been looking for it.''

''You don't have to look for it in order to want it, or need it.'' Theo answered, slipping the glasses off his eyes and rubbing on the glass with a handkerchief, which he'd taken out of his pocket discreetly.

Theo and Draco had always composed a very striking combination of personalities. Both were similar in many aspects; they were pure Slytherins; ambitious, astute, sneaky, with a disregard for rules, arrogant, aristocrats… Since infancy, they'd been raised and bred almost the same way, except Theo hadn't been lucky enough to have his mother involved in it, as Draco had throughout his whole life. However, it was in their personal ways of handling their parallel lives and affairs in which they differed; Draco was impulsive, he was hot-tempered, and intense, and he didn't sit around and wait for something to be done, he liked to do it himself. Theo, on the other side, was cold. He was serene, apathetic, indifferent. He liked to pry into people's lives, and make out what he could from their feelings and experiences, since he wasn't too tending towards having them himself. He valued the few friends which he had, but he wasn't passionate about them, or about anything in his daily, really.

Which is why they tended to clash when facing similar situations.

''What are you, a bloody therapist?'' Draco said, huffing.

''No, I'm just bored. These people are proving informally unpunctual. I didn't realize they'd have enough requests to have their network collapse.''

''These people like to play hard to get.'' Draco muttered. Theo didn't answer, and for a couple of minutes there was just silence. Deafening, to Draco's ears. So he spoke again. ''You said Granger recruited you, right? How the hell did that happen?''

''Nothing too exciting; she made the offer after I caught her eavesdropping on a private conversation.''

Draco couldn't help the mental image of a flushed, embarrassed Hermione Granger, her face red and her eyes wide in horror and absurd shame at having been caught. He laughed inwardly, and shook his head in disapproval.

''That fool of a muggleborn girl and her ventures.''

Theo slid his glasses back up on his nose and stared at Draco pensively. ''Woman.''

''Pardon?''

''Woman, not girl.''

Draco cringed, and shook his head. ''Ugh, Theo. I thought _I_ was the one in need of some action.''

''I was just pointing out, in case you hadn't noticed -very doubtful- that she's grown quite noticeably. She smells good, too.''

Theo and his incessant, foolproof observation had always got on Draco's nerves. Mostly because he tended to be right. His eyes where like radars; he missed nothing, dismissed nothing, skipped less. He could snap open and uncover a person in a second, if one asked him to. That was partly the reason why Draco had felt better about participating in Potter's crusade after he'd found out Theo was too. Because Theo could see right through people; the liars, and the honest.

Draco snorted, and looked away form Theo's analyzing eyes. The wizard was right; he had noticed. He just hadn't realized until that moment.

The abrupt sound of a sudden rising flame coming form the fireplace startled both wizards.

''What the…''

They both turned to face the place where a green, violent bunch of flames had appeared without a warning. After a few seconds of violently flickering blaze, during which both men stood and watched perplexedly, the flames started shrinking and in a quick, swift loop they formed, a dark, crumpled piece of parchment flew out of it and onto the ground in front of them.

Both of them stood, eyeing the piece of paper suspiciously and looked up at each other. Theo was serious; Draco bore a deep scowl.

Theo spoke first. ''Maybe we should…''

''Give me that!'' Draco interjected, squatting down and reaching for the message. He was feeling slightly uneasy, as his long fingers slid over the back of the paper. Right before her turned it over, he looked up at Theo, and awaited for his indication. It was, after all, a thing involving the two of them. When Theo hesitantly nodded, Draco twisted it between his fingers and read.

The scarce lighting, which the disappearance of the flames had caused, allowed him to make out that it wasn't a written message. It was a drawing; a symbol.

''It's a crest.'' Draco muttered almost inaudibly.

And indeed it was; and one he'd never seen, which was strange to him, because he took pride in bragging about his endless knowledge of wizarding history. It was simple, almost schematic. An inverted triangle, with three main areas inside. On the left section was an 'S', written in svelte calligraphy, and to the left, was also an 'S', but this one was inverted. They were joined at the bottom by what looked suspiciously like a snake. Under both letters, at the peek of the triangle, stood the silvery outline of a thin, crescent moon. Draco handed the parchment to Theo and took a seat in front of the fireplace.

It had begun.

* * *

''So you're saying it currently doesn't belong to anyone?''

''That's right, Mr. Potter. It is a very rare piece, indeed. If it where of anybody's, they would surely have claimed it by now. It is very odd for it to have suddenly resurfaced out of nowhere. ''

''You're certain of this?''

''With no doubt, sir.'' The elderly wizard who spoke was the founder and owner of _Aldorius' Artifacts and Antiques_. It was a tiny, crowded shop located in one of the best hidden corners in Kockturn Alley. Luckily for Harry, he'd known Aldorius to have collaborated with the Ministry in several occasions in the past, which is exactly why he'd been seeking his assistance, and his only, ever since he'd gotten his position. Aldorius turned the watch between his wrinkled fingers and slowly handed it back to Harry. ''Yes, what an extraordinary item.''

Harry sighed, and looked beside him where Ron was standing, his arms strongly crossed over his chest, waiting for the man to finish.

''And what could it mean?'' He suddenly said. Harry nodded, as if encouraging the question, and turned to look at Aldorius.

''Mean?'' The elder wizard bore a surprised look as he repeated Ron's words. He narrowed his eyes and looked back at both Aurors suspiciously. ''I assume it wasn't a product of confiscation then? If you don't know where or whom it came from, then its content may be an important lead?'' He looked fixedly at Harry, who tried to keep a straight face, not wanting to give too much away to the man. ''Interesting.''

Harry and Ron stayed quiet, and waited for him to speak, since it seemed like he had a lot to say about the watch.

''That right there, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, is not an average time pocket watch, as it is not, as you may have guessed, a moon watch, either. It goes back even further than past those times when moon watches were used by wizards. It is a magical bonding device; a core joining artifact.'' Upon his words, Ron nodded, knowing what the elder wizard meant, whereas Harry merely stood beside him and stared at him hungry to know more. ''This is a portable bonding platform; many thousands of years ago, when wizards and witches first started hiding from muggles, the magical community when into frenzy and chaos. People ran, and they ran far and for long periods of times; sometimes leaving family and loved ones behind. Some of the eldest pureblood houses, who evidently faced greater fears and dangers than mixed bloods, started designing artifacts which ensured they kept in touch and informed of their family members' welfare. They created spells which bonded their magical cores inside these devices; it could be watches, pendants, rings…The devices make the people bearing them have instant connections with the one they're bonded to, specially when in moments of exaggerated or abnormal emotions. It happens only occasionally, but when it does, it opens an emotional channel between both. Its like wordless and signless communication. Most of the remaining pureblood houses still own these, out of tradition and habit, and only a few of them still bound their cores in them as they wed or go off age. Tremendously useful, in my humble opinion.''

Harry and Ron had been listening intently. As Aldorius spoke, Harry's thoughts were running wild. What did it mean, that they found the bonding device at the scene? What could the antimuggle group be using it for? Was it there by accident? Or did they want to send him a message? His head was all over the place, a focused frown plastered on his face as he turned to Aldorius and thanked him.

Neither of them spoke as they made their way out of the shop; they walked side by side until they were out of the Knockturn Alley and in the midst of a busy crowd in Diagon. When they had reached the Leaky Cauldron, they walked in and immediately two drinks appeared in front of them on the table. As he finally had the first sip of his drink, Ron spoke.

''Maybe they use it in their advantage you know; the bonds.'' Harry looked up to him and nodded lightly. ''They could be using it for tracking. Or vigilance. Do you think they…'' At this point, Ron lowered his voice and ducked his head lightly. ''… make bonds with unknowing people? The connection would break when one dies, right? So perhaps… Perhaps they've used it on wizards or witches, to destabilize them. Or to control them. Who knows? ''

Harry frowned upon the macabre thought. But he knew Ron was right; it's not as if he hadn't thought about it himself. He couldn't stop thinking about it, in fact. As he took a large sip of his drink, he made a mental note to mention the artifact to Draco that afternoon. Ron observed him as he drank and mimicked it, slurping loudly and slamming the glass on the wooden table.

''What's been bugging you, mate? And you know I don't mean the creepy blokes and creepy artifacts.''

Harry looked up, surprised. He didn't realize he'd been so obvious.

The truth was, he'd been giving some thought to a couple of vital decisions which were freely running across his mind at all times. He'd wanted to tell Ron, but his days had been swamped, and the other wizard had been extremely busy too, and he just hadn't really found the right time to speak of trivialities under their circumstances.

So in that moment, as Ron pushed his drink forth and watched it refill automatically, he plucked up a sudden jolt of courage which surged through him and just blurted it out.

''I want to marry Ginny.''

Ron's drink sprayed out of his mouth straight away.

''Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction I was hoping for.'' Harry said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and instantly regretting having blurted out his thoughts so carelessly.

''No, I mean - Really? Like, marry someday perhaps or marry like next month if she agreed?'' Ron asked, his cheeks slightly red and running a hand through his hair.

''Ron, you know the answer to that. I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let me.''

''Oh. Well, okay, I guess.'' Ron mumbled.

''Okay?'' Harry said, amused.

''Well, you're my best mate. Now you're gonna be my brother in law, and it's kinda weird. But it's cool, mate. I guess nobody is going to be better for her than you.'' He lifted his hand and patted Harry on the back affectionally. He never thought he'd be having a conversation like this one so soon; Harry was a busy guy, Ginny was all for Quidditch and training. In Ron's head, it just didn't fit at the moment; it worked, because he loved both of them, and wanted the happiness which they gave each other for them, but he couldn't help thinking of Harry's endless chaotic days and Ginny's draining weekly schedules, and couldn't imagine how they would ever make it fit. But then again, he didn't feel what they felt, and he didn't know how to make things fit, in general, so he would stop trying to understand and just be supportive.

Harry smiled lightly and took the last sip of his drink. ''Thanks, Ron. I don't know what I'm going to do about it, for now. I'm just telling you because it's something I've been thinking about for some time now and someday it may just happen. I just wanted to know how you felt about it.''

''Slightly creeped out but mainly supportive, if you should know.''

Harry laughed at Ron's words and got up from his chair.

''Er… Thanks, I guess?''

''Don't mention it.'' Ron answered, chuckling and following Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron. ''Let's just, not mention feelings for a while, yeah?''

''Sounds good to me.''

''Good.''

* * *

The shrieky doorbell echoed on the walls and travelled through the empty, narrow corridors of Grimmauld Place. Draco stood on the front door, waiting impatiently for someone to answer to the twicelly rung doorbell. His initial annoyed huffs were now dangerously turning into growls. He couldn't help tapping his foot on the ground repeatedly and curse the careless Gryffindors who would call him there to leave him hanging at the door. He took a deep breath and was slowly letting it out when the door swung open.

Hermione stood on the other side; her hands were wrapped in bright red oven mitts, and to her small waist was clung a navy blue apron which reached barely up to her knees. Her thick, frizzy curls were wrapped up loosely in a low bun at the back of her neck, a few strands falling into her face and framing it in a chaotically careless manner. As soon as she opened the door, Draco's eyes shot up to her face. Her flushed, bright eyed, clueless face. Her big, steady, hazel eyes and her flushed, smooth skin. In that moment, looking like a housewife disaster of a witch, with her messy hair and her unkempt appearance, Draco thought the girl couldn't be more blatantly ordinary.

As soon as she saw him, the hurried expression on her face dissolved and turned into a blank, unwelcoming look. She sighed and turned around on her feet, allowing Draco to step into the house. He tried very hard not to show how curious he was about the old Black House's residence. He doubted it looked like the original, too. The walls were painted light blues and beiges and there were no portraits hanging off the walls. Potter had probably taken his time in redecorating, and Draco couldn't really blame him, if he was being honest. Of course, he wouldn't ever tell him that.

The witch in front of him put an end to his trail of thoughts when she stopped so abruptly on the spot that Draco had to lean against the wall to his right, to avoid a very uncomfortable and unwelcome clash of bodies.

''What the hell, Granger!'' He growled, as he reincorporated and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione turned her head round to watch him over her shoulder and she frowned.

''I just remembered something.'' She mumbled, moving out of Draco's way and sliding the living room doors open for him to go through them. Draco didn't bother thanking her, but he didn't complain or make any other offensive remarks either, which he guessed she would appreciate.

Why the hell did he care what she appreciated or not? Draco shook his head and took seat on a black leather armchair around the coffee table. He wondered why the Head of Aurors wasn't there with him yet and inwardly insulted the man's poor manners. After a few minutes sitting by himself, Draco started feeling the tickle of impatience slowly traveling across his body. He tapped his foot on the ground, annoyed, and finally shot up from his seat.

''Granger!'' He yelled loudly. He figured that if Harry was to treat him so poorly, at least he'd make the best of being there. Pissing off the muggleborn witch a little was always refreshing to Draco, who was now waiting for the girl to pop through the door. When after a few moments she didn't appear, he frowned. Apart from destructively messy and illogically annoying, the witch was plain, and to top all that, she was deaf.

Draco let out an annoyed huff and walked towards what he figured would be the kitchen of the house. He hadn't stepped into many kitchens during his life. It wasn't a place he liked working in, or just generally standing in. He reached the white, wide door and pushed it open carefully. When he took the scene before his eyes in, he crossed both arms over his chest and snorted.

''Granger.'' She turned around and stared at him, a surprised look suddenly drawing on her face.

''What on Merlin are you doing here, Malfoy? I thought I told you to wait in the drawing room.'' Her cheeks started turning a soft shade of red, Draco didn't stop the laugh that came out of his mouth as he put both hands in his pockets and answered.

''Since when does it _actually_ matter to me whatever you say, Granger?'' He said, his eyes staring defiantly into hers. He was a little surprised when the witch didn't back up; she didn't retreat, or shrink back into a ball of nerves, as the people who faced him usually did. But he wasn't impressed. Or at least he didn't allow himself to be.

''Since you are standing in my house, under my wards, and abiding my rules.'' She responded, in an unusually snotty manner. Draco huffed and walked two steps forwards, towards where she was standing in front of him, with the conviction that she would take it threateningly, which is as he meant it to look.

Hermione didn't bulge. She didn't make a move. And that's when he looked around, inspecting what she'd been up to. It turns out, the witch hadn't been cooking; she hadn't been baking, for there were no visible evidence in the room, and there was almost no smell which could point to any activity. So what on Merlin was she doing -Draco wondered- with an apron round her small waist and the oven mitts atop the counter?

He realized how it was the second time he'd unconsciously noticed that her waist was small. He remembered noticing earlier that her skin was smooth, too. He didn't know why or how he'd taken account of these details… He hadn't actually been looking. At least not intentionally. No; he definitely couldn't have been looking. She was a plain, unbearable woman; and he wouldn't ever notice anything mildly detailed about her.

 _Woman…_

 _Damned Theo._

''Malfoy? Did you go into trance?'' Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he saw her mockingly waving a hand in front of his face. He hadn't realized he'd been thinking so intensely; and he didn't realize she'd been standing that close to him previously.

As if she was the widely know porter of an infectious disease, Draco jumped backwards and away from her. As he saw the witch raise an eyebrow skeptically, he clenched his fists. She looked amused, and he felt ridiculed, and bitter, for a reason unknown to him. A sudden dose of temperamental anger flew through his veins and into the words which he spoke.

''I was making a mental list of reasons why you are so plainly insufferable.'' he spat bitterly.

''What on earth's gotten into you?'' She said, her nose wrinkling and her hands resting on her hips.

Draco huffed, crossed his arms over his chest and looked to the side, a blank mask of indifference taking over his face. He wasn't used to arguing. In fact, he wasn't used to anybody arguing _with_ him. The people who worked with him barely ever had the guts to even answer to his questions, let alone defy him with an insolent remark. He didn't think half of them even attempted to stare back at him.

The witch's posture was something he didn't ever encounter; her taciturn standing, her heavy frown and her challenging stare was something he didn't see in his life. Only his mother ever questioned him; she was the only one who Draco didn't dare speak back to; and he wouldn't ever feel the need to, either. Narcissa was his only authority, his only concern, and no matter how seemingly miserable and cold it may prove, she was his only love too. A pang of pain tugged at his chest as the image of his mother formed in his head. Her platinum locks falling round her shoulders neatly, in the rare occasions in which she would let her hair down; her pale, slim fingers softly caressing his cheek, as she tenderly let her light blue eyes fall on Draco's. She would give him a sweet half smile for a short second, and to him it would feel like in a moment she'd lit up his whole day with the small curve of her lips. Mere moments after, her mouth would fall back to her usual straight line; her eyes would obediently darken under her blonde lashes and her expression would turn icy and indifferent. And yet Draco would still feel the remains of her heartwarming smile in his chest for as long as it took for her to gift him another.

So, as he stared at the witch in front of him up and down, with her flushed cheeks and her comically pressed lips, he couldn't help but feel mildly amused. She defiantly stood up to him and battled whatever effect he may or may not have on her, her scowl making her big hazel eyes hide deep under the thick brows above them. Her small hands were strongly pressed against her hips and she made no effort to hide the wave of despise which Draco knew he brought up in her.

He knew because she brought it up in him too; the endless nauseating and angering feeling of irritation and despise which took over him every time he looked back at her plain face and her messy mane.

She was intolerable, unbearable, insufferable, helplessly annoying and irking and unnerving and he couldn't stand to listen to her endless chattering and unendurable ranting. She was a detestable know-it-all and a rotten goody-two-shoes with a tendency to befriend losers, and he loathed her.

"Nothing."

Draco didn't know what had pushed him to answer, but as Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, he felt just as baffled that it had been nothing but an average, harmless, indifferent reply. He always had thought it disastrous not to have a clever, insulting remark to answer back with, and it came as a surprise to realise maybe Theo's methods weren't too terrible at times.

He forcefully shook the thoughts out of his head, unwilling to give Theo the satisfaction, and opened his mouth once more.

"What's wrong with you?" He blurted out.

What the bloody hell was wrong with _him_? It was like his mouth had a mind of his own. He hadn't meant to simply ask her, he'd meant it as an insolent demand, a spiteful exclamation. And he'd merely asked an average question. Civil, even.

It was not evolving as he had expected -and wanted- it to. And he hated that.

He watched, mentally cursing, as Hermione let her hands drop to her sides, even more surprised, and lifted one of her eyebrows questioningly.

"You, obviously. I don't know what on Merlin you're still doing here, but it's highly unenjoyable, so stop."

Her insolence sparked a wave of anger in Draco, who all of a sudden didn't feel as much in control as he'd meant to.

"Who do you think you are? You nasty little filthy mugg-"

Before he could even finish, her hand had already violently slammed to his cheek and he felt half of his face go slightly numb after the contact.

She'd slapped him. She'd slapped him strongly, too. If Draco hadn't been so busy trying to control the vicious rage that was quickly taking over him, he would have been impressed. But he wasn't; because there was currently a mass of thick, boiling, angry smoke building up inside his ears, and he thought Hermione was clever enough to realise that she wasn't in a position to annoy him any further.

"Oh!"

She instinctively retreated; stepped back and put a hand over her mouth. Clearly, Draco wasn't the only one who wasn't too victorious at handling his temper. She had a short one, and he'd just been living proof of that. He knew Hermione was sufficiently wise to have no desire to be living proof of his. It was a pity he wasn't too great at restraining his anger issues.

At least that's all that Draco could read on Hermione's face as he slowly took a step forward, towards her. A big, intimidatory stride upon which he noticed how her mouth parted open and her chest started moving up and down quicker. He made her retreat and take back the steps which she'd taken in order to slap him, until she felt her back hit against the wall with a strong thud, and her hands were pressed against it at her sides. She was just like a small, defenceless, cornered prey, and he was the vicious hunter mercilessly coming for her.

"Get away from me, Malfoy." She strongly demanded, a nervous tint filling her words.

He relished in her unwavering expression; he couldn't believe how firmly she was keeping a straight face; her steady eyes and her firmly pressed lips... If he wasn't so experienced with fear, he would swear she held none towards him. But he was, so he could spot the little wavers in her fierce mask. And he adored it.

When he reached to stand just inches away from her flinching eyes, ready to threaten, to spit out poison and spiteful words, to warn her and leave her shaking, an almost imperceptible fresh whiff crept up his nose and stopped him steady.

 _Gardenias, morning dew and black tea._

And he could remember how the scents clouded his brain just long enough for Harry to swing the door open and walk into the uncommon scene.

* * *

''So that was the big answer they gave them? A creepy crest?''

''Weasel, spare us your illuminating wisdom. I believe I'm having a conversation with Potter.''

''You're a downright git, you know that.''

''I highly doubt you'll ever manage to tell me something I don't know.''

Both Ron and Draco had been taking turns at both speaking as if the other wasn't there and interrupting their indifferent façade for childish insults and bickering. Harry limited his answers to sighing and shaking his head, and Hermione hadn't said a word for what seemed like the longest time in her life.

She was still slightly shaken from the incident earlier with Draco in the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest discreetly, irritated as she replayed the unlikely scene in her head. It made her angrier and more unsettled every time she thought about it, but at the same time, she couldn't stop doing so. It was like something inside her brain was just eager to replay it endlessly as a way of torturing her for her insolence and childishness.

Unable to focus, and knowing that she would later regret not having listened properly, she did her best to push her thoughts aside and pay attention to the scene unfolding before her.

''Alright.'' Harry said, nodding. His serene tone was enough to soothe Hermione's spiked nerves in a second. It was reassuring to know he wasn't discouraged by Malfoy's poor attitude. Harry, she guessed, knew first hand what it was to deal with loss, and threats, and endangering loved ones. So Hermione figured it was him who understood better what Draco was currently going through. Somehow, her always logical and coherent brain somehow found a way to fly off the handle every time Draco set his attention on her. It was unnerving and unsettling and she hated it; specially because she didn't truly want to hold an acquaintance of that sort with the wizard.

She wanted to collaborate and be civil, and she hoped to be of some help in the rescue of his mother. She too knew what it was to fall apart from one's parents; and she knew better than to judge a person's morals nor character on what they behaved like under this kind of situation, because it often escaped all sorts of logic. Although his impatient, insolent, spoiled, nasty comments weren't helping his case.

She thought she should find a way to tell him that without biting his head off. Or slapping him across the face. She eyed him discreetly and couldn't help a proud smirk when she noted a light shade of red crowning his cheekbone. He surely wasn't going to let her forget that anytime soon. But it wasn't like was going to forget anyways; he'd been too close, his glare too piercing and his steps to sibylline for her to be comfortable enough to forget. A dry shiver travelled up her spine and she drifted her gaze away from his pointy features and towards Harry again.

He was engaged in the conversation with Draco, and she noticed Ron had taken a seat beside her. She looked up from the exchange between the wizards and turned towards the redhead.

''I don't think I'm ever going to be totally comfortable with this.'' He mumbled, his red bushy brows covering his light eyes in a heavy frown. Hermione smiled softly and nodded, and was just about to open her mouth when the sound of the doorbell echoed around the house for the second time that afternoon.

Harry turned his head around towards Ron and Hermione, a concerned look on his face. ''I'm not expecting anybody.'' He said, looking back and forth from the others and Draco, who was calmly sitting beside him, a pale eyebrow raised quizzically.

''I'll get it.'' Hermione said suddenly, getting up and turning away from the wizards. She could feel a pair of particularly stinging eyes strongly clung to the back other head as she made her way out of the room, and inwardly swore to the fact that she knew who they belonged to.

She grabbed the handle a swung the door open, and was surprised to find Theodore Nott standing on the other side.

' _Just when my day couldn't get any more bizarre'_ She thought.

''Nott?'' She blurted out. Noticing there was something unusually absent in his poised posture and quiet expression, she spoke again. ''Is everything okay?''

Theo didn't answer; he took a step forward and got a hold of Hermione's hand. She opened her mouth in surprise, and stared back into the dark blue eyes which hid behind his glasses. She couldn't help but notice his stiff movements as he leant forward a placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Hermione's face predictably light up in the deepest shade of crimson known to manhood, and she stood there, in the corridor, as Theo walked past her and into the living room.

When she'd composed herself she walked back into the room behind him and suddenly felt four pairs of eyes steadily set on hers. She felt a flash of dread take over her body as soon as her entrance quieted the men. Their backs were straight, and their brows furrowed, and their breaths rapid, and she couldn't really tell what could possibly be going on, but she knew it was already making her feel uneasy.

Theo turned around to face Hermione, his tall figure hovering over her own, and carefully handed a small piece of parchment to her. With shaky hands she took it, never looking away from his face. A light twinkle in his eyes made her feel a little less dreadful than she did.

When the boys didn't speak, it was never good news.

She slid the parchment open and read:

 _TN;_

 _We welcome you to our honorable fellowship; the grandiose Order of Salazar._

 _As a son of the Order you have become, its requests you must fulfill._

 _Your initiation will be held at midnight next first quarter cycle_

 _You will offer your never-ending worship and compliance with the sacrifice of a non magical being._

 _You will oblige in the presence of two fellow members._

 _With honor and pride;_

 _Order of Salazar._

* * *

 _Okay okay OKAY so there's **VERY** important pieces of information in this chapter! So many things going on! My chapters are getting longer by the minute… And I couldn't give less of a crap. So excited! If I ever bore you with my never ending blabbering, just leave a review and tell me about it. I'm all ears, hehe._

 _Anyways! Loving Hr/Dr interaction; loving Theo babe, loving Harry sweetie and practically just loving everything about this chapter in general. But what I love the most is you being there and supporting me!_

 _Hope you enjoyed, **don't forget to leave a review!**_

 _Much love;_ _Horned Serpent_ _._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer** : Every recognisable character, scenery, or canon storyline belongs to JKR; I'm only fiddling, and making no profit from it whatsoever.

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

It was the beginning of an early dawn, two days after Draco and Theo had received their initiation task. The crisp morning air softly caressed Hermione's cheeks as she made her way into the spot where the unlikely assembly of individuals usually gathered to discuss the only factor which they had in common.

She pressed her hand against the cold surface of the entrance door and slipped into the empty pub, in which the other members of the small reunion were already sitting around their usual table. The four wizards looked up as Hermione steadily walked towards them. Each of them directed a different gaze towards her; each of them poured a different mesh of emotions -or lack thereof- into their stares as she grabbed a chair and took a seat between them. Theo, who was sitting to her right, held no expression in his dark blue eyes whatsoever, as he usually did. Ron sat to her right, a genuinely encouraging declaration drawing from his light blue ones. She smiled softly at him and quickly skimmed the others, drawing her eyes over to Harry and his absent minded, concerned frown. She then found herself staring right into Draco's pewter eyes. Traces of pride and arrogance stood out in his gaze as he fixed his scrutinising eyes on her.

"Did you bring it?" Cautiously asked Ron as he shifted in his chair next to her.

Hermione nodded and a small wave of pride washed over her as she slipped her hand in the pocket of her cloak and took out a small vial, barely the size of a tester ampoule. She looked back at the men who cynically observed the flask, and cleared her throat.

"Draught of Living Death." She spoke, twisting the vial between her slim fingers. She noticed, amused, how the wizards' eyes drew to it unconsciously. "Freshly brewed. It's infallible."

"You're not a salesman, Granger. You can stop with the advertising."

Of course, that snotty snap had been enunciated by Draco. Always killing Hermione's happy buzz. She ignored him, and turned to Theo, who lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. She put the vial in his hand and pulled hers away.

"Three drops and no more. If you overdid it, the subject could go into a coma. I'm not willing to be held responsible for that, so use it well." She warned; her bossy, demanding tone was directed straight at the dark haired wizard.

She was surprised when his answer was a soft chuckle.

"Granger, As much as I appreciate an intelligent witch, you seem to constantly underestimate my abilities. And Draco's, for that matter. You should know, that doesn't always work well in your favour."

Ron stared at the man incredulously and then turned to Draco, who cleared his throat, a scowl fixed on his face. The redhead wasn't usually spared of Hermione's short temper himself, but he knew the consequences of getting her riled up purposely were pretty severe; specially not being a part of her close friends.

The witch, however, merely snorted and leant back on the chair, her eyes still clung to Theo's hidden ones as she answered.

"It's fortunate, then, that my life purpose isn't being in anybody's favour. Specially not yours."

She finished her strong affirmative with a sweet, smug smile, and set both hands on the table. It was in moments like those when Ron highly appreciated having Hermione there to channel his inner fury towards the wizards and transform it into witty remarks. Theo answered with an amused smirk and Draco mumbled something in intelligible under his breath, his face reddening lightly. Ron held a smile back and turned to listen to the witch speak.

"Harry, Ronald and I went over the plan last night, but for obvious reasons your input is essential, which is why we asked you here."

"Is that why you were late too?"

"Moving on " she continued, ignoring Draco's interjection. "The plan is basically already set up.''

Draco snorted ''If you think I'm ever going to follow your orders -''

''Not your turn to speak, Malfoy. Shut up and listen.'' Spat Ron out, angered by the blonde's second interruption.

''Thank you, Ron.'' Hermione said, quickly glancing at the redhead and then focusing her attention on Theo and Draco. The first was looking at her coldly; no palpable emotion present in his flawless mask. She guessed Draco was trying, too, but doing a poor job at it since his ears where turning a light shade of red. She cleared her throat and started speaking:

''Tomorrow at quarter to midnight you'll apparate to a small neighborhood in the south of muggle London. Leigh, 111 Charles' Road, to be exact. When you get there, you'll put wards up and go into the house. A childless matrimony lives there; they have a dog, so it'll likely start barking and alarm the owners. You better _muffliato_ it before that happens." She looked at Harry for confirmation and when he nodded she continued. "The members of the Order will likely get there at least five minutes early, so quickly and before they do so you have to slip the Draught into the muggles's system. It's your problem how you decide to do that, but I highly recommend not doing it orally because it'll leave obvious traces and your visitors may check. Now, I know this might not represent your favourite modus operandi, but I think you are both smart enough to know you are not to harm the couple in any way. That includes forcing the potion down their throats and magically handling them excessively. Or stupefying them; petrifying them - ''

''We get it, Granger. Just because you're used to working with mono-neuronal idiots doesn't mean everybody is. We don't need you to spell anything out for us, let alone while unsubtly implying that we would wish to harm these muggles.'' Draco said spitefully as he pushed his chair back and stood up. ''I'm done with this. We'll carry out the plan and inform you when it's done, but I won't spend two more minutes in this ragged joint. Theo, if you wish to join me.'' He added turning to the other Slytherin, who shrugged and got up sheepishly.

Harry then proceeded to stand up as well and turned to Theo. ''Nott, I'd like to discuss something with you.''

''Alright.'' Theo answered. He turned to Draco, who was already looking at him, and nodded his head lightly, a wordless message which was Draco's cue to turn around on his feet and start taking big strides towards the door.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat with an angry bubble of irritation and frustration boiling inside of her. Without thinking it twice, she stood up from her chair noisily and strode towards the door, following the blonde. She was furious with him for interrupting, she was tired of his snarky, rude comments and his constant accusation and she was infuriated by his snob attitude and his superior-like ways. In that moment, the only thing she wanted to do was clash her knuckles against his nose. And yet the sentiment which drove her to run out of the pub behind him wasn't her kick-boxer tendencies, but rather her thirst to understand what made the blonde act so spitefully every time he came across her.

As she pushed the door of the pub open, she spotted the blonde walking towards the apparition point.

''Malfoy!'' The witch yelled angrily. Draco stopped walking and turned his head around, surprised. As soon as he saw the witch, he rolled his eyes and resumed his walking. Hermione huffed angrily at his ignoring gesture and started trotting towards him. ''Malfoy, stop!''

Annoyed, Draco turned on the spot and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione then realized she didn't actually know what she was going to say; she didn't have it planned out, se didn't know the best way to talk to the wizard, and she didn't know how to act. It'd been a while since she'd known so little about anything at all.

Gathering her pride she stopped in front of him and mimicked his standing. They were facing each other, both with their arms over their chest and an angry expression in their eyes. A quiet, nervous tickle was itching at her stomach and preventing her from speaking, while Draco's challenging eyes were steadily fixed on hers.

''Spit it out, Granger. I don't have all day.'' He snapped. She was surprised that he was even willing to listen to what she had to say, and she suddenly became greatly self conscious.

Hermione knew she couldn't let her uneasiness show through. Not in front of him, at least. What had changed from the table inside the pub to the cold, empty street? She suddenly had even forgotten why she cared what Draco acted like in the first place. She'd forgotten why she'd run out behind him; and she'd forgotten why she'd been angry at him, and she dreadfully wished that it had nothing to do with his cold, penetrating gaze and his steady, svelte posture.

' _What's got you thinking like that, you daft dimbo? He's an idiot. Just and idiot with idiot attitude, idiot eyes and idiot posture._ '

''I don't understand why you're being like this.'' She blurted out put of the blue. _Damn me and my sudden outbursts._

''If by 'this' you don't mean a handsome, rational, Gryffindor-hating perfect gentleman, then I can't help you.'' Draco sneered back.

Hermione huffed.

''You're being a childish brat and you're lashing out on everybody all the time. Specially on me; I'm fed up with it, and with _you_. You're acting as if we're coaxing you to be here when we're only trying to help you and your mother, and at the same time doing everything we can to provide public safety! I understand you must be suffering and you aren't very good at anger management but I highly recommend you take your head out of your own arse and start acting like a grown up.''

Oh, dear.

When she closed her mouth, Hermione felt a rush of dread rising to her cheeks. She had let it all out and she really didn't know how to feel about it; specially with his eyes still impassive and glaring at her warningly. How could a wizard's look be so intense? She didn't recall anybody's eyes being as light as his, and at the same time hold such dark tints. She let out the breath she'd been holding and bit her lip unconsciously.

She thought she saw his eyes skipping to her lips for a second and then drawing back up to her eyes. She could've been imagining things. Which, she realized, would be much more concerning.

Draco took two dry steps towards her, until he was hovering over her a short couple of feet away.

''Are you done?'' He finally answered. His voice was tense; his face was flat; his expression unmoving, and Hermione had already lost all hope that she could have a normal conversation with the wizard. ''This is how it goes, Granger; you don't patronize me in any bloody way. You don't speak to me as if you were genuinely concerned about me and my mother's welfare, because we both know you aren't. You don't dare speak about my mother in any way and you sure as hell don't dare pity me. I don't want your stupid pity, I don't need it, and I will not have it.''

He let out a long, heated breath and, for some reason still unknown to him, he waited for the witch to answer. He didn't know what he was still doing there, but he felt as if he couldn't move away. He was angry, undoubtedly. But something about the way the witch was staring back at him made him feel as if he wasn't enough in control to just vanish in front of her and leave the unlikely situation. He had to stay and see where it led.

Her face was slightly pale, and from the twitch in her mouth Draco could tell she was not happy. But she wasn't saying a word, which was something unusual, coming from her.

Hermione didn't know what was going through her head when she answered.

''Fine. I won't.''

Draco blinked a few times and stepped back, befuddled.

''What?''

''You heard me, Malfoy. I won't repeat it.''

Maybe she _did_ know what had come over her when she'd decided to comply. Of course she'd been mad; she felt anger irradiating from her body at all times during the conversation. Lots of frustration, too. But she also felt sympathy; despite his words; and she felt a strange pull towards his impotent, angsty retorts. She could recognize the colors in them; it was all plain pain. She'd seen it on Harry innumerable times; and she'd heard it on herself for quite a long time, too. She could understand his boiling wrath and his irritating behavior (even though she did keep in mind that the had a poor behavior to start with) and she knew the kind of person that she was and how she tended to believe there was more to people than what they insisted on shoving on other's people's faces.

She'd no desire to dive in the depths of Draco's inner life. Not close. But she only wanted for him to realize that they were all on the same side and that constantly standing up to her wasn't the right way to get by.

Draco was dumbfounded; out of all the things he could've expected for the witch to answer, that had been the last. Maybe not even the last; he actually would have never thought that she would agree. He'd meant a spiteful, hateful order. Not a proposition or a pleading little speech. What was going on with the woman in front of him? He didn't know what to make of it; or what to say. He never didn't know what to say. He was getting slightly nervous; or was it angry? He couldn't really tell, because her taciturn light brown eyes where fixed steadily on his, and it was becoming a little suffocating for the wizard. Or maybe it was the faint smell or gardenias and black tea. He couldn't say.

Suddenly, it was too many things he didn't know.

''Fine.'' He muttered, and breaking the overwhelming eye contact between the two of them, he turned around and disapparated with a loud 'pop'.

Hermione stood on the spot for a while and only snapped out of her absent minded trance when she heard the shuffling of the cloaks of the three other wizards behind her.

* * *

''Nott, they're both out. It's your turn to trace test.''

''I believe I just told you about me testing it thirty seconds ago.''

''Do it again.''

''It's unnecessary, Draco. I trust my capabilities fully.''

''Well I don't. Just do it again, for Melin's sake!''

''You should refrain from rising your voice in this type of circumstances.''

''Theo, do the damn test one last time.''

''We're gonna have to work on that temper.''

Draco let out a frustrated groan and grabbed turned to look at Theo, who stood facing him across the room. It was a large master bedroom; thick, navy curtains draped the french doors which led to a wide, balcony space. Inside the bedroom, the walls were covered in light blue and grey tones. Large wardrobes sat on the far end of the room, and in the centre, against the back wall, was a wide kingsize bed. Draco and Theo stood each facing one side of the bed, in which a couple laid in apparent peaceful slumber.

They'd arrived sharp at their designed time and had cast wards and Silencing Charms, in order to sneak into the house unnoticed and to be able to administer the Draught of the Living Dead to the muggles before the members of the Order would get there. With a simple Disillusionment Charm, Theo and Draco remained hidden and easily slipped the potion into both sleeping muggle's ears. Slipping it into their mouths would have, as Hermione had previously noted, left far too many traces and administrating potions through the ears had been highly popular since ancient times. The ears are directly connected to the nose, and thus to the mouth; not many people remembered those type of methods anymore, which is why Theo and Draco had decided upon them.

After a few minutes, Theo finished testing for traces one last time, and Draco felt the muscles on his jaw relax lightly. Both wizards were on guard. Their wands drawn and their hands clasped tight around it; they stood in silence, tense and uneasy, specially in the blonde's case, until the wards shook and they noticed that other magical beings had trespassed the property.

The Order had arrived.

Draco breathed out slowly, and he barely felt Theo's hand press firmly against his shoulder supportively. He was feeling numb. Numb and furious; seeing red and smelling fire at the thought of sharing a space with the people who'd forcefully abducted his mother, and who were using the jeopardizing of her welfare to inflict pain and worry in his life and force him into an association of murderers and killers and losers.

He'd already been in one of those, the ample tattoo on his left forearm was there to prove it, and he would never even dream of going through it once more. Except now he was doing it all over again. Once again, somebody had snatched all his power and control over his own life and was forcing him into participating in everything he'd been trying to forget and escape from for the past three years. It was torturing on so many levels, Draco didn't know how he'd get by.

 _For now, by doing a bloody good job at playing my part._

Draco glanced at Theo quickly, who -as always- bore a mask of pure indifference, and then turned to watch the door. It was going to be opened in mere seconds, and it would reveal the 'fellow members' of the 'Order of Bastards'', as Draco liked to call them in his mind, who would be watching over their initiation task for the night.

Two sets of steps approached the door; one in what Theo and Draco recognized as brisk, hurried light steps -they guessed a woman- and another in a heavy bunch of long strides. It was the longest seconds in their lives until the doorknob turned and the swing of the door revealed the company.

One of them was a big, bulky man, and the other a small, slim woman. Both their heads and bodies were covered by a set of dark green hooded robes. It was such a deep green, that it almost seemed charcoal; but there was a certain glow of the cloaks as they swung around the couple's figures in the moonlight, which gave the real tint away. Suddenly, Draco didn't like green as much as he used to.

''Good night, gentle wizzs. The Order gives out their warmest welcome to you both.'' The man spoke first. His low pitched, tenor voice made something click in Draco's brain. He'd definitely heard it before, but then again, he listened to so many people speak during an average week that he didn't think himself capable of recognizing him. Not yet, at least. Maybe if he showed a little more emotion… Perhaps later, when they were through with the critical part, he could spark the conversation a little and make him show himself through.

The woman, who'd been so far standing inertly next to the man, took a couple of steps forward, and drew her slim hands towards the hood of her cloak, which she pulled back, revealing her identity.

As both wizards would have guessed if she'd bothered to speak before showing herself, the woman was Daphne Greengrass, a fellow Slytherin. Draco forced an unemotional expression as he tried to hide back his genuine surprise. Daphne had taken no part in the Second Wizarding War, and her family hadn't been in Voldemort's closest circle. She was a quiet, lanky girl, with big light eyes and silky blonde hair, who rarely raised her voice to speak and hardly ever stood out from anything aside her evident beauty. The woman turned to look at Theo first, and smiled softly at him, and same she did with Draco, who didn't feel more reassured at all, but rather more furious at the Order for recruiting a girl of such clean hands and clear conscience.

He tried not to think about his mother telling him how much she'd liked the girl when she'd met her.

Draco felt a pulsing in his head as he pictured the girl in her initiation task. She couldn't turn back now. It was too late. Just like the last time for him.

''It's wonderful to see your, dear friends'' She enunciated softly. Her voice was like fine velvet, and Draco started to feel uneasy at the thought of her sweet tone taking part in the evil crusade. ''I couldn't be more joyous to be seeing you under these blessed circumstances!'' She let out a soft giggle, and Draco noticed how even Theo shifted uncomfortably in his spot. ''You both are nothing but brilliant, well trained wizards, we agree on that! Your input to our wondrous undertaking will be more than welcome and appreciated.'' Draco thought she might be hurting her cheeks from the tight way in which she was grinning. ''You know how this goes. We will proceed shortly. Of course, I understand you're not very fond of orders, either of you, but I'm afraid this one you must bear with. Kill the muggles here and now. No hesitation; the night is early and I wouldn't want to wait an extra minute in this dump house.''

The remains of her bold, threatening sentence filled the air around the wizards, and Daphne took two steps back, her eyes glinting with hunger. She made a gesture towards the people laying on the bed, and bowed her head lightly.

Draco swallowed forcefully and turned around towards the muggles, peacefully immersed in an unshakeable slumber of dreamless death proximity. As angry at himself for thinking about it made him, he deeply envied them.

The silence in the room almost suffocated them as they rose their wands and pointed them to the 'sleeping' figures. Draco could feel Daphne's eyes strongly clung to the back of his head. He could almost see her perfect, dazzling smile drawing on her lips as they both got ready to curse.

Theo's thoughts were similar as he stared at the young woman's face.

When the time was right, the dark haired wizard closed his eyes gently and focused the crackling energy flowing through his body into modifying the spell that would soon shoot out of his wand. It was slightly easier for him than it was for Draco, since Theo had daily hands on experience with modifying spells and breaking curses. The blond, however, had no problem in channelling all his strength into the adapted incantation.

Theo and him had earlier agreed to use non-verbal magic to throw a curse with similar appearance to the killing curse. Green, flashy light; strong, consisting texture and the shape of a powerful, striking lightning bolt. They'd decided upon using a Verdimillious Charm; a spell which was frequently used in duelling and which both of them were strongly familiar with. With enough modifications, it would be nothing but a bunch of harmless green energy almost identical to that of the Killing Curse's.

And so they did. And the nasty feeling which ran all throughout Draco's body at the sight of the green light hitting the muggle's skin was overwhelming, and all he could gather before Daphne's pleased shrieks and the unknown wizard's low chuckles echoed around the walls, was the crippling anger inside his stomach. Disgust was the only thing he could gather from the scene. Relief was tugging at his heart almost unnoticeably at the thought of the muggle couple waking up in a few days.

Theo and Draco stood motionlessly as the order members inspected and tested the bodies. It had, fortunately for them, been exceedingly well carried out, and they congratulated them fervently.

A little while later, Draco was sitting on the sofa at his office, and Theo was standing next to the window. They both remained quiet, taking the time to remember and regret the past, and to reaffirm the notion of never letting it repeat itself.

* * *

Only Harry heard back from Draco and Theo after they completed the initiation task. The three of them took part in a short worded, dry conversation in which the two Slytherins gave Harry all the details about the procedure. Names, exact words, clothing… They left Hog's Head shortly after meeting up and parted ways, a tense, cold atmosphere heavily present.

The days after the gathering, Harry was feeling a little skeptical. He wanted to believe them, of course, and he -almost- certainly thought he could; but that small room for doubt, which he couldn't help always leaving, had gotten slightly bigger with the passing week. Draco's compliance was subject to his mother's well-being. Theo's was subject to nothing except either strong principles and morals -which, to Harry was obvious, wasn't the case- or rather a strong sense of self preservation. Sometimes that was enough, but on other occasions, one's judgment could be clouded with fear, or greed, or anything which could ever cloud the cold wizard.

He sighed as he took seat in the large armchair in his office, and rested his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed lightly on the arm rest. Glancing forwards, he noticed the platinum moon watch sitting on the flat surface.

' _What if…?'_

He slid his glasses up on his nose and reached out to grab the small device. The artifact was truly a useful thing; it brought instant information about somebody's state in any given situation and with limitless distance between them. Undetectable connections and imperceptible messages. Soon, the tasks set for Theo and Draco would become harder and more difficult to dodge. There was always a way of communicating for them, but for some reason, Harry couldn't put aside the thought of the Order of Salazar reinforcing their security measures as time would go by. They were planning new things, getting stronger, and growing more numerous. Enlarging ranks, enlisting recruits… It all seemed to be tending to make it harder for the trio and the Slytherins to pass information and carry out the infiltration mission.

' _But what if..?'_

What if they used the artifact in their favour? What if they set a link between two members of their small assembly and had them have instant contact and impenetrable messaging system? A soon as they were finished with it, he would break the connection, no doubt. But this temporarily unbreakable access to either of the wizard's inner emotions would set the path straight for being almost entirely _inside_ the Order.

It was dangerous, risky, unpleasant and highly unreliable, from what he could gather. But it was also brilliant, and once a certain idea had set foot in Harry's brain, there was no one and nothing that would make it waver. So he made up his mind. Soon, he would communicate it to the group, and they would vote on the two people who would take the bond.

Harry couldn't possibly do it. He was soon to marry Ginny, if everything went right, and in the magical world marrying meant bonding of the magical cores too, which intrinsically meant that Harry couldn't risk bonding himself to anybody in case the situation would take longer than expected to be reverse, for he could risk being able to wed the girl. Ron wanted nothing to do with the other wizards, ever, and Harry didn't think it was a solvable situation. He very strongly, furiously, vigorously loathed them both, and Ron's furious blind temper jeopardizing the mission -even if involuntarily, of course- was something he wasn't willing to do.

And then there was Hermione, who was usually very much displeased with the wizards' presence; who cringed every time she heard the blond's name and wrinkled her nose every time she heard the dark-haired's voice. She huffed when they spoke, and got a twitch on her eyebrow as soon as the both sat in front of her. She was defensive and feisty and didn't usually give up on arguing with the bunch.

And yet, she was the only one who had constantly expressed her condolences about Narcissa's abduction. She was the only one who looked down and fidgeted nervously with her small hands when she heard anybody speak ill of the Slytherins; she didn't spark fires against them and she tried her best not to attack them behind their back with empty insults and shallow observations. She did curse them every once in a while, but Harry was pretty sure even their own mothers did that every so often, and they all knew Hermione had a very evident short fuss.

He twisted the device between his fingers as he fed his roaming thoughts.

It had to be her; she was the fairest, most logical, good-natured and rational person he knew; she had an absurdly strong moral compass and her principles were better than well defined. She had character, and strength, and even though Harry didn't want her to necessarily have to go through bonding her with another, he knew that she was indispensable in the process and he hoped that she wouldn't give him a hard time for making her take the mission on.

She was the only one right for it and Harry would do everything he could to convince her. She was, after all, a tough headed, moody little feisty witch. It wasn't going to be easy. He sighed and closed his hand in a fist around the pocket watch, slipping it inside his cloak.

Sheepishly, he got up from the desk and walked over to the fire place, a loud, tall swoosh of flames closing around his body as he clearly spoke the words which would take him back home to his two friends.

* * *

 _** ''_ _The_ _ **Verdimillious Charm**_ _can have several effects depending on its use. If one quickly casts the charm whilst aiming for a specific target, it will cause green sparks and/_ _or green electrical discharge_ _to explode and crackle all around the victim, hurting them slightly. The incantation "verdimillious" most likely derives from the latin word "viridis", meaning "green" and french "mille", meaning "a thousand"; this most likely reflects the thousands of green sparks produced.'' (via Harry Potter Wiki)_

 _*I used the expression 'Gentle wizzs' because I like the sound of it and wanted to give the Order a special ancient slang._

 _I had some people recently ask me if this was a Draco/Hermione or Theo/Hermione: It's_ _ **100% Draco/Hermione**_ _; but I_ _ **love**_ _Theo's character, and I can't help sneaking him into my narrative and just making him an important character from time to time. Don't know if I'll fiddle with Hermione's head in that sense; I doubt so though. So yes, hope that answers some of your questions._

 _Anyways! So glad to be back! Technically, I'm not late because it's been exactly a week since I posted the last chapter, so… Yay for me_

 _I feel like the story will take a very interest turn from now onwards (I realize it's been quite a slow show so far, but believe me, you like it better this way) so_ _I hope you stick around to see that!_

 _ **Don't forget to leave a review**_ _and tell me how little or much you liked it and your opinions on it! I greatly appreciate it and your input is essential to me!_

 _Till next time; much love_

 _Horned Serpent_


	8. Chapter 8A

**Disclaimer:** Every recognizable character, canon storyline or scenery belongs fully to JKRowling and i make no profit from playing around with them whatsoever.

 **Chapter 8**

''Harry you've _got_ to be joking!'' Hermione's nostrils were flaring dangerously as she let heated air out through her nose, between very angry yells. ''What on earth made you think this was a good idea!?''

''It _is_ a goo- ''

''No! Absolutely and irrevocably no! There's no way this is going to happen!''

Harry sighed and hung his head, defeated. They'd been going at it for more than two hours and the witch hadn't even got past her initial repelled reaction. Hermione kept walking in a fast, hurried pace as she picked up a bunch of light blue files from a desk and dropped a few documents on another. Harry kept trotting behind her, his face drawn in pleading desperation, and everyone around them followed the scene suit with hints of amusement on their faces.

''Hermione please, just listen -''

''I've heard everything you've said so far, and believe it or not, I stand my point.''

''You are being irrational.''

''Define 'irrational' Harry; because this just all seems a little too surreal to me and I'd like to check this is not just me going mad.''

Hermione stopped walking and leaned over to comment on some regulation business with a plump looking wizard sitting behind a small desk. Harry stood behind her, waiting impatiently with his arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping on the floor. People passing by stared for long before they resumed walking, and Harry shifted on the spot uncomfortably a few times before the witch was done talking.

Hermione had been visiting the Department of Magical Creatures early in the morning, two days after Harry had decided to carry out the bonding, when the wizard, knowing her intentions to do so, had decided to accompany and try to convince her of the multiple (dubious, to the witch) advantages of the bonding. So far, he hadn't gotten great results. But, it was in Harry's taciturn nature not to give up on these situations, and so that's exactly what he thought of as he grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, turned her around, and pulled her into an empty conference room.

''Listen, Hermione.'' He started speaking and saw how the witch opened her mouth to protest. The only way he could think to prevent that was casting a silencing spell on her., which he did, risking his friend's eternal wrath. ''Just listen up! It's direct, untraceable, wordless, signless, contactless communication. It's infallible and unknown and a weapon we have to our advantage! It's something we _need_ , Hermione. I know this isn't something you want to do; Merlin, I understand. I would never wish this for you under any other circumstances; but haven't you come to think of the fact that by carrying out this bonding you are saving lives? It will only help us get closer, Mione, it'll take us inside for real. We need this; we are so far behind. Please, please do this for the case.''

The witch stared into her friend's pleading eyes. His hands were entwined in front of him in a begging gesture, his glasses were almost falling, perched on the tip of his nose, and Hermione couldn't help the wave of tenderness and warm empathy which took over her as she met his gaze. Her heavy frown softened, and her arms came down to her sides. Harry noticed, and he flicked his wand lifting the silencing spell from her.

''I just… I need to process this, Harry. Don't think I don't know about these binding devices. I'm not ignorantly reluctant. I know what they do in the long run.''

''There won't be a long run, I promise. Just as long as we need to be on the inside and learn how to get Narcissa out of there.''

''Why me, though?'' She inquired softly, her hands drawing to massage her temples. Her head was suddenly very sore. ''Why not Ronald?''

Harry titled his head, sending Hermione a look that could only say _'you know why'._

''He's too impulsive, 'Mione, and he goes sort of blind when he's angry. I can't imagine Ron being angry for himself _and_ for another at the same time. It would be utter chaos.''

''You're right.'' She mumbled, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. ''But what about you? Why are you not offering to do this?''

She was right to have noticed that Harry's expected move had been to volunteer for the bonding himself, and that he hadn't done so.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and slipped his hands inside the pockets of his uniform.

''I can't do it.''

Hermione stared at him incredulously and put her hands on her hips. ''You can't do it? Harry James Potter, tell me what you mean this instant or…''

And then sudden realization came upon her and she stopped speaking; if Harry hadn't done it, and knowing him, wouldn't have refused to do it, it meant that he _physically_ couldn't. Like really, physically wasn't capable of it. Which meant that there as something going on in his magical core and, from what Hermione knew, it could be either a faltering (which didn't seem like the case) or an already present bond.

Harry was already bonded.

''Don't tell me you and Ginny…'' She said, her mouth hanging half open and her hand pointing an accusatory finger at his face.

''No! I mean, not yet, anyways.'' Harry answered nervously. ''But… I'm proposing, soon. And I can't go around with a bound core in case we marry within the few upcoming months.''

Hermione dropped once again her hands to her sides and sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

''I can't believe you're proposing! It's so wonderful, Harry!''

''Yeah yeah, it's great, but back to the watch…''

''Wait! Hold on! So, Ginny'd come live with us at Grimmauld place?''

''Of course not.'' Harry answered, slightly annoyed that the witch was sidetracking the conversation. ''I'm working on rebuilding Godric's Hollow. We'll live there.''

Hermione clapped her hands together in a joyful gesture and smiled. ''That's marvelous Harry! When were you going to tell me this? I bet Ronald already knows, you sneaky punk!''

Harry chuckled and sighed. He nodded, and as Hermione got ready to tell him off, he lifted a hand and stopped her. ''Hermione, the bond. Please.''

Hermione's smile faltered and she hugged herself, uncomfortable and bothered once more. She looked into his emerald eyes, and knowing that if she gave it too much of a thought she would never accept, she nodded.

''I'll do it. Just; this is very uncomfortable, Harry. Joining cores is… It's very intimate. The idea of doing it with one of the Slytherins isn't very appealing.''

Harry, filled with relief at her answer, took her hands and nodded. ''I know; I know 'Mione. I promise I'll make it up to you. This will be so advantageous, really! I'm so glad you agreed. You're the best.'' He planted a big kiss on her cheek, and turned to leave the empty room. ''I'll leave you sometime alone, and I'll see you at the tryouts, alright? Take care!''

And he was off, and Hermione was left with a tugging feeling of sullen dread. She wasn't ready; not close, and she feared what an ancient bond like those would do to her. She sighed and turned towards the door across which Harry had walked out. When she was about to cross it, she had to stop mid walk to avoid bumping into a redheaded witch who was hurriedly running towards her.

''Hannah?'' She said, surprised.

''Hermione!'' The witch shrieked, her arms immediately closing around her. ''I heard you'd come to visit and I instantly set off looking for you! It's been so long since I've seen you! How's everything been working out for you at the Auror Department?'' Hermione opened her mouth to answer but the other witch interrupted her, by resuming her joyful chattering. ''Wait! Don't tell me anything just yet! What about a drink? Tonight, at Coorkein's Cocktails?''

''Oh, I don't know Hannah, I'm rather busy and…''

''Come on! It's been so long since we hang out, and I have to tell you so much stuff! Pretty please?''

Hermione giggled at her insistence and nodded. It felt nice to know some people at the Department still thought of her dearly, as she did of them.

Hannah shrieked happily and hugged her once more before turning away and leaving, her short, shiny red hair flipping from side to side behind her.

* * *

The was a soft chill to the gentle afternoon breeze as Hermione, Ron and Harry took a seat in the crowded stands. The cold, flat surface of the benches felt uncomfortable under their bodies as they shrugged off their cloaks and let themselves be surrounded by the cheering hoots and the excited anticipation in the scene.

Hermione helped Ron accommodate by her side, as his wide, bulky build made him struggle lightly with getting comfortable in the narrow seats. Despite their spot being part of the most exclusive area of the stands, their surroundings couldn't be more busy. After all, it was a highly anticipated event; the Quidditch tryouts for the Holy Head Harpies.

Harry knew the exercise had begun the second the crowd erupted into joyous, deafening yelps and high pitched cheers. He watched the beaming faces around him and couldn't help his mouth morphing into a wide grin. It was a big day.

Ron let out a satisfied sigh and clapped his hands together.

"Well then, let's get right to it! She better do bloody great, I tell you." He exclaimed, leaning into his two friends with a cheeky smile on his lips. Hermione laughed merrily and Harry nodded, his hands rubbing nervously together in front of him.

Silence fell upon the crowd as soon as the sound of a Sound Amplifying spell filled the vast field. A small, brunette witch leant back on her broom carelessly as she soared from side to side in front of the cheering audience. Harry recognised her as the captain of the team.

"Alright! First of all, thank you all for being here today!" A loud rumble of voices filled the stands, and then faded away as she spoke again. "It's a beautiful day to find a Quidditch star! And thus, here we are! The procedure will be the following: we have five potential candidates for the empty spot on the team; us, the Holly Head Harpies, will play a testing match against this bunch of amateur players. The goal is not to win the game, but to spot a star player in the flesh; and so when we do, the match will be over, and the spot will be taken. Fairly simple! Or is it?" She said, grinning cheekily from ear to ear and holding onto the handle of her broom.

Both Harry and Ron recognised her posture; she was about to take off. Just before the witch did as they had expected, she turned around on the spot and waved her wand in front of her, making a big, wooden trunk appear in the centre of the pitch.

"Good luck to you all! And may the best Harpy win!"

And then it was a flash of brooms and flourishing sport cloaks, and the deafening sound of the players swishing through the air at vertiginous speed, accompanied by endless cheering claps and excited hoots, in the midst of which Harry struggled to follow the players and spot his girlfriend among them. He looked up and suddenly spotted the shiny flourish of a head of bright, silky hair, and he smiled to himself. It was Ginny, and she was like a ball of speed and fire. Her determined, squinting eyes as she soared through the air, and her loud, unconscious grunts as she managed to get her hands on the Quaffle.

"YEAH! YOU GO GIN! SHOW THEM WHAT'S GOOD!"

Hermione giggled next to a red faced Ron, who was enthusiastically jumping in his seat and punching the air with his tight gripped fists.

And he was right; Ginny _was_ showing them what was good. She was flying through the air at unreachable speed, she was powerful and fearless and taking control of the game, unashamed to give her all her blazing character was pouring out of her flight; and they all could see. Harry, most of all, had his eyes steadily focused on her quick moves. His stare was so intense, he feared he might make some accidental magic burst out of him from the tension he was building up inside of him.

It was all a big, echoing blur of fading voices and muffled cheers around him. It was like there was nothing which could tear his eyes from the girl. And so they didn't leave her figure once.

A short half hour later, the game was over, and the five players were descending, panting and out of breath, sweat dripping from their clothes as they closed their eyes and wished for their lucky strike… But they wouldn't know until a few hours later, so, for the time being, there was nothing they could possibly do to soothe the spiked nerves.

It was rather Harry's nerves which were spiked stratospherically, one watching from the outside would say, as he made his way down the stands' steps to greet his loved one. She was beaming; the bright, dazzling smile she was sending him would've sent Harry into oblivion and back a billion times had he not been so determined to carry out a certain deed, the prospect of doing which was now imposing a shaky wobble on his knees.

She trotted up to him merrily, her hair flinging from side to side behind her, and when she reached a certain distance she joyfully jumped into Harry's arms.

''What did you think of it? Do you think I did well? Do you think I'll get it?'' She covered her freckly face with her hands and and let out a nervous giggle. ''This anticipation is killing me. I think I want to go drink myself daft, and maybe come back after I'm one hundred percent pissed.''

Harry didn't even hear her; he could only watch her, unconsciously grinning, inadvertently flushing at the sight of what he undoubtedly thought was the most beautiful witch in the whole wide world. So sticky, cheesy, lovey-dovey and overly-sweet… and yet so true. He didn't notice everyone's curious and tender eyes on them; he didn't hear the sound of the suggestive whistles and the loud cheers as he planted a big, short kiss on her lips and left her slightly out of breath. He didn't even realize there were camera flashes going off around him. He could only see her.

He couldn't wait a second longer. Not _one_.

And that's the last thing he thought before he swiftly let go of her arms, closed his fingers around her slender hand and painfully slowly got down on one knee.

And it was like suddenly everyone in the Wizarding World had taken a deep, perfectly synchronized, surprised gasp, so strong that the air in the place had shifted, and Harry was sure that the sudden lack of oxygen, and his sudden difficulty breathing, was surely only caused by the gasp taken in unison.

Ginny's startled, wide open eyes were all he could see. She was paralyzed, frozen, staring down at the thin bracelet which Harry had slipped out of his cloak unnoticeably. She was blown away, and shocked, dumbfounded, flabbergasted… And she was buzzing; for a second she was out of breath, but boy, when it came back, how it did!

She didn't jump, she launched herself into Harry's arms, her own arms tangling around his neck and her legs leaving the ground to wrap around the man's waist, She was clinging to him like he was life and she was dying, and he was holding her like she was the air and he'd been breathless for his whole existence. And with a loud, high pitched, deafening shriek, it was done.

'' _YES_!''

And then all they could see was each other and the flashes of a thousand cameras going off around them.

And they didn't care.

For a moment, they didn't have a single care in the world.

* * *

 _ **IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE** : **THIS IS ONLY HALF THE CHAPTER** ; the other half I'l upload soon, maybe a couple of days from today, because I literally simply had no physical time to edit the other half (I updated my profile, feel free to check it out. I'm a med student; pretty swamped with work to be honest) , but I didn't want Monday to show up and I empty handed! So, this is the first half of the chapter for you, and you'll get the other one **tomorrow or maybe the day after tha** t. I promise! _

_Don't hate me, I'm doing as best as I can._

 _( **Draco, Theo and more Hermione** happen to appear a lot -if not for the whole thing- in the other half. Hehe.) _

_I hope you liked this nevertheless; I think it was a pretty sweet scene and I'm happy with how it came out!_

 _ **DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW** ; it's so gratifying to me when you do! Also, it's your chance to suggest, propose things and comment on mistakes or things which I surely might've done wrong! Thanks!_

 _Much love_

 _ **Horned Serpent**_


	9. Chapter 8B

**Disclaimer** : Every recognisable canon character, scenery or storyline plot fully belongs to JKRowling. I make no profit from this fan project whatsoever.

* * *

 **Chapter 8.2**

 _"Chief Potter!"_

 _"Miss Weasley! Look to the camera!"_

 _"Harry Potter! The Daily Prophet here! Miss Weasley, do you believe you have what it takes to be the future wife of the Chosen One!?"_

Harry had to tighten his grip around Ginny's small frame to restrain her vigorous attempts to hex the hustling reporters, who were following them and the others out of the Quidditch stadium after the groundbreaking announcement. The unexpected proposal had attracted an uncanny amount of press into the scene, their camera flashes going off around them and their loud voices calling their names in the hopes of catching their attention, and getting at least a trace of a sentence out of them. After all, it had been one of the most anticipated and expected society events after Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom's wedding earlier that same year.

"I assure you it is Harry who should be worried about living up to the expectations, Mr Prophet bugger, not I!" The red headed witch stated vehemently, her voice rising far above the exclamations of the reporters. A few of them chuckled and Harry couldn't help following. The girl was a force of nature.

 _"Mr Potter? What do you have to say to that?"_

"You heard her!" He answered amusedly, turning towards them and shrugging it off, his arms still protectively set around his fiancée.

 _"Miss Granger! Witch Weekly! When is your turn? Do you plan to dedicate your life solely to your job and your studies!? Do you have no current love interests? How does that make you feel!?"_

Hermione turned around, unpleasantly surprised, and stared fixedly at the reporter who'd thrown the unwelcome question at her. How dare he? She was used to the press, alright. She'd been familiar with being under the spotlight for a while now, always standing by Harry throughout his long standing history with the press. All kinds of things had been said about her in every possible way; degrading, spiteful, accusatory, flattering, honouring... Mostly the last two after the war and its following events, although it was true that ever since Neville and Luna had gotten married, the press' speculation about her non-existent love life had exponentially multiplied, bringing along uncomfortable dissertations about her and Ron's short lived romance, and theories about the possibilities of a newfound range of secret admirers at her disposal.

Which was ridiculous and irrelevant, in Hermione's opinion.

The reporter looked back at her expectantly, and Hermione, certain that she would hex the spirits out of him if she could, decided upon staying quiet and flashing an uncomfortable smile towards him. She'd get nothing from fighting and arguing, and discussing her love life -or lack thereof, rather- wasn't something she was up for, at the moment.

So she picked up her slightly wound ego and turned around to follow her friends, who were heading towards the Apparition point.

"Are you alright 'Mione?" Harry checked in on her, but seeing Hermione's annoyed scowl directed straight at him, he ducked his head and decided to stay quiet and retreat back into his bubble of bliss.

However, Ginny's renovated, fiery spirits were showing through her vehement chattering and her nervous trotting.

"Don't listen to the little buggers, they don't know what to do to get new content in their lame issues." She spat, her hands drawing to Hermione's reassuringly. "I could curse them into oblivion, I swear on Circe!"

"It's all good Gin, nothing I'm not used to." She answered serenely, smiling softly and squeezing her hands back.

 _Besides, they're not too far from the truth._

But she didn't say that aloud; she didn't want to start a debate on her non-existent love life. She was certainly doing good on her own, having her days all to herself and working on all types of different projects, fighting the Order, and standing up in favour of long-forgotten lost causes... It's what she liked to repeat to herself anytime the subtle tickle of loneliness crawled up her spine and made her sigh relentlessly.

She shook her head and tried absurdly hard to shake the ludicrous thoughts out of her head.

Finally escaping the bustle, they went back to The Burrow, were Mrs and Mr Weasley had already set up a more than proper display of food and drinks, and had invited the whole family over as well as some of Ginny and Harry's closest friends.

It was a sweet, dreamy evening, filled with warm breezes scented with blissful young love and excitement. Life plans, love declarations, prospects of building a life from scratch. It was harmonious and heart wrenching and everybody was buzzing; the drinks were flying, food was delicious and the company was insuperable.

And yet, Hermione couldn't help feeling the loneliest she'd felt for a long time. And she couldn't felt feeling like an absolute brat for it, either. Watching the Weasleys, Ginny's parents' beaming faces, all her bothers' congratulating hugs and displays of affection; Harry's embrace tenderly surrounding her body like she was made to fit in his arms... They were all her family, but in moments like these, Hermione felt like family was nothing but a distant childhood memory which was slowly fading and falling from reach.

Sometimes, she feared forgetting what real family felt like.

But, as she watched her friends laugh without a care in the world, and listened to the soft, cheerful music, she couldn't deny that the people she had around her were like a safety net of unconditional love and support which, years back, she would have never dreamed of having. Ginny, her closest girlfriend, was glowing. Harry, who was like her brother, had only eyes for her dazzling smile and Hermione felt a twinge of glee at her heart knowing his lonely, unfortunate childhood had been avenged by the milestone. He was happy, and he had everything he wished for, and she couldn't be more glad for him.

Hermione rested her empty glass on the wooden table next to her, and crossed her arms over her chest, absentmindedly. She had never been the type of person to wallow in self pity, and she wasn't going to start now. She sighed, as if the air that was coming out of her lungs carried the weight of her pessimistic dwellings out of her system, and allowed a small smile to form at her lips. She followed each member of the intimate gathering with her pensive eyes, until they fell on the clock sitting above one of the tables.

Half-past seven.

"Merlin!" She exclaimed, drawing her hands to cover her mouth. How had time flown by so fast? She was supposed to meet Hannah at Coorkein's at that same hour. She clumsily jumped out of the seat she had taken and hurried towards her newly engaged friends.

Surrounded by loving words and good wishes, she waved everyone goodbye and gracelessly strode towards the Floo inside the house.

Embraced by the soaring swoosh of green blazing flames, she abandoned the gleeful celebrations.

* * *

"So you didn't even stop by his desk?"

"Of course I did! I popped by, said thank you, and then got back to work."

Hannah Abbott rolled her eyes and sighed condescendingly at her friend's attitude. "Herms, you're the worst."

"Actually, I think calling me 'Herms' might top anything you put it up against." She said, sipping her drink and smiling lightly as Hannah let out an amused chuckle.

"I can't believe you turned him down so nonchalantly. He's very handsome! Not that it's everything that matters, but it does help."

Hermione frowned and thought about the arrogant, half witted mess of a wizard who'd sent her flowers out of the blue and attempted to ask her out on a date a couple of weeks back. She hadn't even considered accepting. She'd taken the flowers, put them in a vase at Grimmauld Place, and thanked the wizard appropriately. It had looked like he wasn't used to getting the answer she'd given him, but Hermione hadn't been too concerned about it.

The flowers had died only a couple of days after, and the girl couldn't have been more amused at the irony. Two days had likely been more time than her own interest in the lanky man would've lasted.

"Oh, come on Hannah. He's famous for his ludicrously swollen ego. Not that I'm fond of constant, excessive attention, but I'd fancy myself some space in a wizard's mind if I were to accept an invitation of the sort."

" _If_ you were to accept, which doesn't seem like is ever going to happen, at this rate!" Hannah exclaimed, between laughs. "He _is_ pretty terrible though, I'll give you that."

"Not you too, Han!" The witch drew her hands up to her face and let out a bothered huff.

"Oh, do tell me! Who else has reprimanded you for your lack of good lovin'?"

"I had an encounter with a daft reporter today at the field. It seems like I'm more famous in the Wizarding World for my lack of love interests than for my laborous work." Hermione sighed and sipped her drink slightly more vehemently this time, the feel of the Firewhiskey burning every inch of her insides comforting her in a dizzying way.

The hustle and bustle of an inviting Friday evening at the epicentre of British wizarding life filled the atmosphere in an uplifting way. Hermione and Hannah sat at a small booth in one of the far corners inside the busy _cocktelerie,_ surrounded by fast paced conversations and flying trays of brightly coloured drinks and snacks; glasses made of unmeltable ice, goblets filled with short lived flames which blazed in a dozen colours and died on the brim of the cups... It was a sight to see.

Hermione hadn't been surprised Hannah had asked to meet at _Coorkein's_ , since she knew the redhead was a fan of attending the busiest, trendiest spots in every occasion she got. Hermione was fonder of smaller, quieter places, but it had coincided that on that particular day, loud music, a strong drink and lots of unfamiliar faces was just what she'd needed.

At least that's what it felt like as she drowned her third drink and watched it magically refill. Hannah did the same, and let out a loud giggle.

''I've wanted to do this for ages! I was really surprised when you agreed, I thought you would tell me you'd rather meet for tea in the morning or something of the sorts.''

Hermione nodded and smiled absentmindedly. She was feeling rather lightheaded and her mouth tasted too much of whiskey and stinging bitterness. ''I was planing to do that, but then my best friends got engaged this very afternoon, and I was given some highly unpleasant command just this morning, and a reporter tagged me as a lonely maid devoted solely to my job… and it just seemed fitting to come here and indulge a little.''

''That's my Herms!'' the other witch squealed excitedly.

''Hannah, what did we say about calling me 'Herms'…''

After a few laughs and a last couple of drinks, Hermione was tipsy enough to decide upon going back home and calling it a night. Hannah was just as pissed as her, so Hermione helped her to the Floo and then got back to the booth to retrieve her belongings and take off. Just when she was about to, she got an inescapable urge to use the toilet and, dizzy as she were, decided to answer to her needs and maybe after that get back to Grimmauld.

She clumsily made her way down a dark, narrow corridor which led to a steep flight of worn out stairs. As she cursed (under her alcohol induced breath) at herself for having one too many drinks, Hermione made her way up the steps and ended up in a dangerously quiet section of the old building.

The sudden stillness of the air sent a cold shiver up her spine, and made her senses jerk wide awake in a second. She didn't like dark places, she wasn't fond of empty corridors, or alleyways, and creaking floors and whispering walls weren't her cup of tea either. With a certain sense of reluctance, she took a couple of steps forward, gathering her old fashioned Gryffindor courage and looking around her guardedly at all times.

There wasn't a single sound around her, save the intakes of her own increasing breaths. She wasn't getting a great feeling about the place, and she knew there was more than alcohol and mild darkness to blame for it.

Her suspicions were confirmed when a sudden set of heavy stepping feet made its loud appearance at the end of the hallway.

It was barely a few feet away from Hermione that a man opened one of the lateral doors without a warning, and stood in the middle of the corridor, facing her directly. She couldn't make out his physical traits in the dim lit passage, but it was clear to her it wasn't a witch from his bulky, wide frame and his heavy walking.

Hermione thought his strides were a bit too heavy, and rather uncoordinated, as he made his way towards the witch.

Feeling the hairs on her arms stand up, she realized the wizard was going to walk straight into her. She also noticed that she was rather dizzy, and not in her best shape, and she was feeling dread and fear start to crawl up inside her mind as she managed to draw her wand out and point it shakily towards the man. He was mere inches away. She could smell whiffs of liquor and earthy cologne. There was also a mild scent of peppermint and hair gel… Unable to hold her curiosity back, and topped by the sudden fearlessness which her drinking had provided her, she murmured a ' _lumos_ ' and lit the tip of her wand.

It was more than enough to immediately recognize the dark mercurial orbs staring back at her own.

''Bloody hell, Granger! Will you get that stupid light out of my eyes!?''

Hermione unashamedly stared back into his squinting eyes, her light still steadily pointed towards his scrunching face. She couldn't help thinking he looked rather ghostly, in the midst of abundant shadows and engulfing darkness.

''What on blooming Merlin are you doing here?'' He slurred, eyeing her up and down suspiciously. ''You wherr…- you weren't following me, no?.''

His questioning tone, even if drunken, was menacing, but Hermione was unresponsive. She didn't fear him, and specially not in her tipsy state. Any intimidation which Malfoy would surely have imposed on her under other circumstances was gone, and she was just standing there, watching his words stumble lightly as they fell from his lips. She'd never seen him so little composed and yet he was still the most composed drunk man she'd ever seen.

''Are you deaf, Granger?'' He said as he waved a slim hand in front of her expressionless visage. She could tell her way of acting was making him grow impatient and bothered, and she couldn't help the temptation to push him a little over the edge…

And how surprised she was when his hands fell upon her forearms and he grabbed her as he once had, back at Grimmauld Place, angrily pulling at her and dragging her inside the room he'd come out of. Hermione didn't have time to react, and they only thing she did was let out a surprised yelp.

It was a dark, dusty bedroom with an unmade, four-post bed and a faint, patterned rug, which was currently covered in shard of glass once part of a single bottle.

''What the hell, Malfoy!'' She managed to blurt out as she regained balance and leaned on her side against the rusty wall. She was sure the room wasn't meant to be turning and looping as it was doing before her eyes, but she was determined not to let her disoriented state show.

''You've come to take pride in my misfortune, have you not?'' He spat, macabrely taking a step towards her. ''You've come to brag, and torture me further?''

Hermione frowned, confusion filling her as she analyzed the young blonde's words. Her mind was working abnormally slow.

''What are you talking about?''

''You know what I'm talking about, Granger. You enjoy your stupid eventful evening with your lame spineless friends while you relish in the thought of making my days even more miserable.''

Draco spat every single word so intensely that had Hermione been any closer, she would've felt her skin sprinkled with his spiteful breath. She was so lost, she couldn't put two thoughts together. She didn't recall having done anything to spark the wizard's fury; at least not that she could think of, and she was sure they were past the point of him being angry at her very existence.

''Malfoy, I don't know what you mean, but I don't recommend you insult my friends.''

''Oh, is that so? Is the swotty muggleborn worried about her half-witted friends?''

Hermione tried the hardest in her life to say nothing, though she felt her blood start brimming and boiling inside her heating body. There were bare minutes left until she exploded, she could feel it.

''Don't think me daft, Granger. Potter told me all about your plans earlier this evening. What, you thought I'd be happy? You thought me joining you ever-pure magical core would make me feel honored? Hallowed?''

Suddenly, everything made sense. Realization came upon her as she pushed herself back on her own to feet and stared back at the wizard, unamused, fury painting every edge in her scowling expression. If he had the nerve to think she would relish in joining her core with him, he was far off his rocket.

 _Hold on a second…_

Last time Hermione checked, they hadn't agreed upon whom she'd bond with.

An angry gasp made its way out of her mouth, indignantly.

'' _You_!? I have to bond with _you_!?'' She yelled out, her finger pointed at Draco accusatingly.

''Well, you didn't think you were going to join cores with infamous Legilimens, curse-breaker, emotionless Theo, did you? Or did the so called 'brightest witch of our age' not think of _that_ before she accepted? Huh?''

Hermione watched him, as her knees shook with rage and her hands clenched tightly around her wand. ''It hasn't been settled yet! I spoke with Harry this morning and-''

''Oh you did, did you? Well guess _what_ , our scarhead potty idol forgot to mention your future bondmate during your friendly morning chat! Cheers to that!''

His words were slurring and his feet weren't properly planted on the floor as a glass magically appeared in his hand, and he spoke his last, sardonic words. His usually cold, grey eyes were now burning and fixed defiantly on Hermione's as she tried to make sense of things. The witch bit her lip nervously, and unconsciously took a step towards him. Draco almost choked on the gulp of Firewhiskey he'd taken as she did.

He hadn't expected her to advance on him.

''Are you certain of this?'' She whispered, her insides churning as she watched the loathsome man whom she could potentially end up sharing her intimate magical core with.

He stared down blankly at her, gave her a short, sharp nod, and lifted his drink to his mouth once more. Hermione watched him, a frown settled steadily over her eyes, and impulsively lifted her hands towards his drink.

He did nothing, befuddled, as she grabbed his glass and pulled it away from him.

''I think you drank enough for tonight.'' She whispered, barely audibly.

Draco heard, though. And he couldn't have been more confused than in that moment, with her concerned expression falling upon his flabbergasted one, her hand holding the glass which he'd been sipping mere seconds back, and her petite frame standing just inches away from his hovering body. He was certain liquor had an undeniably overpowering effect on him as he eyed the young witch up and down and shifted towards her lightly. Was she the lightest bit concerned about him?

He couldn't believe he'd been so angry and then so mesmerized in a matter of seconds. It wasn't comfortable for him; it was unknown and unwelcome, and he kept fighting it.

''Don't patronize me, Granger.'' He murmured. The soft, velvety touch of his words brushed past Hermione's skin in a dizzying, blurred stream of sounds. The only thing which wasn't crazily turning and twisting inside the room were his steady, hot eyes cautiously clashing with hers.

They were mesmerizing, hypnotizing her.

 _Hermione, no. Shut up; don't think about his eyes. You're drunk, and he's dangerous, and he hates you. Retreat, go home._

Ah, so there was still a rational thought left inside her brain! His eyes hadn't managed to lure her out of reason completely… Or had they? She shook the thoughts out of her head, and took a step back, watching him at all times. There was something about his posture, his features, his mannerism, which made her unable to take her careful eyers off him. How had she ended up in this situation?

But just as she retreated, Draco felt a cold breeze swarming in front of him, slipping where her body'd just been and taking over his own, and he couldn't stop himself from taking a stride towards her to fill the emptiness that had suddenly filled her spot.

 _You are so goddamned drunk, you git._

How had all the wrath which he'd felt towards her suddenly morphed into this situation? He could do nothing about it, and apparently, she couldn't either. And the worst thing was, Draco could tell _just_ what his reasons were… More than telling, he could _smell_ it. He could see it. He could almost, just almost touch it…

Hermione held her breath as she watched Draco's lifted hand reaching out towards one of the brown curls carelessly sprawled around her shoulders.

 _He's going to touch you. Don't let him touch you!_

But his straightforward, determined movement reached her before she could hear her own thoughts, and his long fingers wrapped around a strand of brown curls, and started twirling it cautiously; caressing it gingerly, rather clumsily. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off him, whereas his stare had long adverted from hers and was set intently on the silky ringlet. She wondered what he was thinking. She hoped he was just like her in that moment, and could think nothing. She secretly wished for his mind to be as blank and unresponsive as hers; she hoped his gaze was clouded, and his senses numb, because it was the only way in which she could have ever explained everything that went through her mind as she watched his slender hand sheepishly leave her hair and reluctantly drop to his side.

And then they said nothing, and they just stared. They stared at each other, a wash of different emotions traveling through their faces. Despise, wrath, ire, anger, resentment, annoyance, reluctance, pain, fear, befuddlement, curiosity… Draco had never felt so bare, so naked. He wasn't saying a word, he was making no sound, moving not one inch, breathing never out of compass… And yet it was like she could read him and scan him like an open book, and he was suddenly filled with anger and dread and disgust towards her for making him confused and unveiling him in a way not even his closest allies could ever have.

She was ensorcelling; mind-boggling… She was naked poison. He wanted none of her pure magic and her innocent soul; he despised her genuine concern and her altruist bidding, he abhorred her selfless actions and her sharp moral compass and he loathed everything that made her so opposite to everything he'd always believed in.

Their cores couldn't possibly be bonded. So much of her would be mixed inside of him and so much of him would end up eating at her unscathed soul.

He wasn't concerned about her, but he hated everything she represented, and the thought of both having their purest essence mixed up and meshed in a bundle of nonsensical energy, was making him sick with disgust.

''Get out'' He mumbled. Hermione didn't hear him She just stood there, in front of him, as solidly as she'd been for the whole time. He felt anger knocking at his stomach. He could feel his ears reddening, his face flushing. He wasn't under control anymore.

The truth is, he hadn't been in control for the whole interaction with her. And that's what drove him our of his mind as he repeated his words, this time in an angry, scraped grunt, tinted with every centimeter of wrath building up inside his body.

''GET OUT!''

The worst thing was, he didn't know who he was angry at anymore. He didn't know whom to blame. Liquor, for making him uninhibited and uncontrolled? Himself, for allowing his emotions to fly too close to the surface and threaten to pour out of him at any moment? The witch, for forcing these emotions out of him in the craziest, most dangerous way he'd ever known?

He could far from think straight as he watched the woman's eyes widen with shock, and her feet take an instinctive step back.

 _That's it, Granger, fear me. Loathe me, like I loath you. Hate me with every fiber of your body._

But much to his frustration, aside from her initial reaction, she didn't bulge. She didn't move an inch, the stubborn witch.

''Damnit, Granger! Get the hell out of here!''

He kept yelling at her, and with every sentence, his voice faded away, and she never even flinched. He didn't understand; he was trying so hard to think of logical reasons why she would just stand her ground and he just _couldn't understand_.

And then suddenly, she titled her head to one side, and bit her lip nervously, just as she did every time she was about to speak. And then she spoke.

''I think you should get some rest, Malfoy. You don't look good -not that you usually do, either, but in relative comparison- and it will suit you better. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, for both of us, and I won't have it worsened by a foul mood of yours or a childish tantrum over things neither of us can control. I don't want for this to happen any more than you do; but I think you have a greater motivation than I do, to guide you along the way and help you get along. Just remember that.''

And with those timid but powerful words, Hermione Granger turned around on the spot, and walked towards the exit. ''Good night, Malfoy.''

And then she was gone, and he wast utterly and irrevocably lost.

* * *

 _ **Hello!** Please, don't kill me. I've literally been pushed to my limits during this past week and I couldn't upload this any earlier than today... Truly sorry! _

_But anyways! I did love how it turned out; I'm rather happy with its pace and I hope that you liked it just as much as I do!_

 _Please, take a second of your time to **REVIEW** and tell me what you thought and how little or much you liked it! It helps me a lot and keeps me thoroughly motivated! _

_Anyways, next chapter is... the bonding! And some other important event is coming, involving the Slytherins and some funny redhead we all know and love..._

 _Till next week!_

 _Lots of love_

 ** _Horned Serpent_**


	10. Chapter 9A

**Disclaimer:** Every recognizable canon character, plot or scenery fully belongs to JKRowling. I make no profit from this whatsoever.

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Only as soon as her body touched the soft, puffy duvet, it was that Hermione allowed herself to think about what had gone on with the blonde wizard.

She'd been infuriated; helplessly angry at him for continuously trying to get her to hate him. What was with the wizard and his persistent reject for any hint of humanity? Why did he so stupidly think that wallowing in self hatred and pity was the way for him to carry out this mission successfully? He couldn't be further from the stability, control and determination which he needed to help his mother; and this frustrated her in unpredictable measures.

What _was_ predictable, however, was how no matter how absurdly hard she tried to put her mind to a rest and let herself drift off into the peacefulness of sleep, she could not. She would only twist and turn under the covers; her mind always working despite her constant pleads for the gears to stop turning. She was sure there was no way she would manage to get any rest; and so Hermione dedicated her nocturne dwellings to decomposing everything that had happened that night between Draco Malfoy and her.

She'd been partially tipsy, to start with. Although she was pretty sure Draco's wrathful yelling had sobered her up quite efficiently.

She pictured his ragged voice, as he parted his thin, chapped lips and let his anger morph into a deafening yell, infused with liquor and drawing in sully desperation.

 _'Get out'_

Was it the thought of having to bond with her, what really had made him so wary? Hermione didn't know if she should have felt offended. Rather, she knew she shouldn't have, but did anyways. She was a bright woman, and a skillful witch. Nobody would ever doubt that; not even him. Was the thought of meshing his magic with hers so nasty?

 _You know the answer to that_

Even her subconscious knew what she should feel, and how she should be repelled by his vicious insults and his constant spiteful snickering. He hated her, he absolutely abhorred her. What on heavens made Hermione so drawn to his crippled words? Why did she have the constant need to empathize with his unfortunate fate? It wasn't fair, that she wanted to understand him and help him reconsider, reforge his morals, his principles. It wasn't fair, because she knew that ultimately it would lead her to nothing but dead ends and unnecessary frustrations.

But who would she be, if she did not believe in a lost cause? If she did not fight for someone's right to step out of a dark hole of bitterness and walk into the true meaning of freedom? Draco was subject to his grief, to his constant impatience, the inexorable wall that he had built around himself and didn't let him breathe, live.

She couldn't help it. And, much to her despair, she knew the temptation to absolve him would be much greater after their bonding. Their stupid, stupid bonding.

She sighed, shifting towards the other side of the bed, as she let her eyes roam freely upon the darkness in her room.

Cursing at herself for her inability to rest in peace, she went back to the image of Draco's graceless saunter; his disheveled demeanor, his heart clenching glare, freckled with shreds of pewter and sprinkled with drops of mercury.

Darkness suited him, like a tailored cloak of penitence.

What had he been doing there, anyway? Apart from drowning in booze and engulfing misery, of course. She figured he'd intended to be doing exactly that. Why Coorkein's? Did the muffled sounds of people taking jovially, in a background of unworried laughter, make him feel less alone, lurking in that dump of a room he'd been tucked away in?

And that only brought more questions to her mind, questions that continued eating away the minutes of the night, which passed slowly, consuming her thoughts and doubts until she was drained from rationality and her sense of reality had faded away, along with her wakefulness. She drifted into sleep like someone drifts into a daydream, slowly and inadvertently, rocking in the arms of an impatient Morpheus, pulling at her deepest subconscious as she fell into the turbulent slumber.

The feeling of a gentle shaking on her left shoulder woke her up the morning after. As her lids sheepishly drew apart, she felt the dawn of a pounding headache fall over her. Hermione haphazardly turned around on the bed, trying to spot the source of the recognizable chattering which was sweeping through her ears.

Ginny Weasley had climbed on her double-sized bed and was now grinning, as she blabbered away joyfully. Hermione didn't make out a single word she was saying; her sore head and heavy lids were betraying her ability to stay focused on the words coming out of her mouth. Ginny looked like the sunshine which was burning Hermione's sleepy eyes was pouring out of her small body. She was the physical embodiment of bubbly joy and happy energy. She wore a light green loose t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, her silky red mane falling gracefully around her shoulders. She was -

''Hermione, are you bloody deaf? Get the hell out of bed, you look like a sleeping Ghoul!''

The witch sighed, and pushed the covers of off her feet. The girl's soft freckles were surely some deceiving mechanism.

''For Circe's sake, Gin, can you not yell? What did I do to deserve this?''

''Brood around in an ugly pajamas on a very important day when you had actually agreed to hang out with your best friend and talk about life. Is that enough for you?''

''My pajamas are not ugly!''

''They're a tartan mess.''

''Tartan is cute!''

''Yes, sublime, for Professor McGonagall. Now now, get out of bed. We're having a girls' day.''

Once again, a resigned sigh made its way out of Hermione's lips as she crawled out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. Ginny laid back on the spot where she'd been asleep just minutes before as she followed Hermione's movements with her amused eyes and incessant chatter.

'' -so then Harry told me he'd actually asked my father for his blessing, which I thought was sort of sweet but mainly unnecessary because it's clear to everybody that had he not given it, I would've married him still. It was a sweet gesture nevertheless. And then after that, I was finishing having breakfast and guess what I read on the Daily Prophet? Apart from my own astonishing front-page engagement article, I mean.''

''That picture is impossible to miss; you look like a Chinese Fireball dragon on it!'' Hermione yelled from inside the shower, where she took her time to let the warm water drip on her skin and let it wash the previous night's wariness away. As she lightly massaged her scalp, she thought maybe talking to Ginny about her worries would let her be a little more at ease with the upcoming events, and perhaps the passed ones too.

Ginny laughed loudly, clapping her hands together energetically. ''I know! I look dreamy. Anyways, back to the point, Hermione! I saw a whole column written on the society pages which was solely dedicated to _you_ drinking and partying last night at Coorkein's! I have to say, I got severely pissed off at the beginning; had you bothered to tell me, I would've _clearly_ skipped the engagement party and joined the gal pal boozing party!''

Hermione rolled her eyes as she wrapped her body in a cream colored towel and walked out of the bathroom, heated mist sneaking out of the door behind her. Her cheeks were rose from the warm water and her hair was tangled and dripping around her shoulders. Ginny sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

''Next time, I'm organizing the party.''

''There won't be a 'next time' if you ever call it the 'gal pal boozing party' again.''

''Fine, but for the record, I was planning to name you 'Chair of the Pristine Pissed Pals'''

''Really, Gin.''

''Party pooper.'' The redhead complained amusedly. ''So, didn't you try to stay clear of reporters or did you just give up in the thrill of the moment?''

"The second; I figured somebody would spot us at some point, so I stopped trying to duck my head and avoid looking at people in the eyes. The thrill of the moment had nothing to do with it, though." She answered plainly, shrugging as she walked back into the bathroom and slipped her dark jeans and cozy knit over her damp skin.

"Oh, come on, stop brooding! I'm sure you had a wonderful time, a couple of bugger photographs can't take that away from you."

"It was alright..." Hermione mumbled, recalling the events which took place after her unconcerned drinking with the other girl. She stopped on her tracks as she looked at her reflexion on the small, ornate mirror which hung ostentatiously off the tiled wall. Maybe she really should consider telling Ginny about it; after all, nothing bad had really happened, and still, it had stirred many uncertain things inside of her for the duration of an entire, sleepless night. She looked away from her image and walked back into the bedroom, carrying her pajamas in her arms. "Something happened, though."

Ginny's eyes opened wide and she sat up on the spot in the unmade bed. "What? What happened? Is everybody okay?" Her voice wavered lightly and Hermione noticed how uneasy she was looking all of a sudden.

"No! I mean, yes! Everybody is okay. Nothing happened _happened_ ; what I mean is something went on last night after Coorkein's. Involving myself, I mean."

At her words, Ginny blinked repeatedly, expecting her to talk on.

"It involves Malfoy, too."

"Wait, so ferret face was there? What was he doing there? Don't tell me he took part in the girls' night out, I already have enough disturbing images plaguing my mind as it is."

Hermione let out a soft chuckle and shook her head as she bent over to pick up her shoes from the floor. "No, he didn't take part in 'gal pal outing ceremony'.''

''It's called 'gal pal boozing party', 'Mione.''

"But he _was_ there.'' The witch went on. ''At Coorkein's. Not at Coorkein's itself; he was in the connecting building above it. You know how these Diagon Alley constructions are; you turn a corridor and you end up across the street without even knowing. Well, he was in one of those dumpster rent rooms which connected to the bar's back corridor."

"How did you know he was there?" Ginny asked, her arms crossing over her chest.

"I didn't, clearly! I was trying to find the loos when I took a wrong turn and ended up in a creepy pathway. Turns out he was just another component of the macabre atmosphere. He merged in quite well, really."

"Yes, so I've heard. Creepy pathways are autochthonous habitats for spoiled gits. It's widely known."

"Gin!"

"Yes, yes, I know. It's not nice to offend people, even gits. So, keep talking."

Hermione closed the wardrobe doors after giving her lined shoes one last glance and checking everything was in place. She then turned around and took a seat next to the redhead. "He was completely pissed; he went on an angry rampage and started yelling at me about the bonding. Like its my fault; the idiot. - "

"Why do _you_ get to insult him?"

" - Anyways, it got weirder from there on. He went kind of into a trance, " she went on, ignoring the interjection, and feeling a light shiver travel up her spine as she remembered Draco's pale fingers drawing up towards her untamed curls. "He got all... calm, and thoughtful. Almost gentle. I don't know how to describe it; the atmosphere in the room changed completely."

She decided she wouldn't give every single detail away; some small scenes she would keep to herself. Hermione felt like, for some crazy, undecipherable reason, she wanted to wrap them up and guard them in a deep, inexorable spot. Images for her to keep that would remind her of the hints of naked, ephemeral humanity which she'd been able to make out in his sunken eyes.

Ginny was watching her now, her own freckled face drawn in genuine curiosity. Hermione knew the witch was quick to get her mind working; she was also aware of how incredibly unrealistic and absurd the situation must sound like in her ears.

"Malfoy... Gentle?" Her eyes lit up with a knowing look and she let out an careless laugh. "So you _did_ have that shot of Sparkly Strawberry Starka I told you about! I knew you would try it out eventually! These Russians are an unbelievable thing, right? It does leave quite the headache, though. I understand the tartan pyjamas mess now."

Hermione huffed and looked at the witch with an annoyed frown plastered on her face. "Ginny! That's not it! I didn't get drunk and imagine Malfoy being a gentle ball of fluff in my disturbed mind, I swear it happened like I told you. And to make things worse, he suddenly got all worked up in his own darn mind and started yelling like a pyschopath telling me to get out."

The witch thought she'd never seen Ginny's eyes snap open at the speed they did. "Really? I can't even _begin_ to imagine what you answered."

Hermione agreed with her. "I told him he looked like hell and he should get some quality sleep. Today will be a long day, after all. I don't need his silly tantrums hindering the bonding even more."

Upon her words, Hermione knew Ginny wouldn't retort. It was a touchy subject, after all. She knew everybody would be tiptoeing around it for as long as it went on.

"That Malfoy... He's an unbelievable thing. Even more than the Russians." She muttered, her hands traveling to Hermione's swiftly. The other witch sighed and nodded, squeezing the redhead's hands in hers fondly. "He's quite hot, though."

The loud laugh that erupted from the back of Hermione's throat bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the empty house, her following, indignant _'Ginny!'_ fading away as they chatted about life animatedly and put each other up to date. During the beginning of the lengthy conversation, the brunette had a certain pair of pewter orbs intently fixed on the back of her mind.

A few hours passed, and Hermione and Ginny were sprawled on the living room sofas, two empty glasses of wine rested on the table, their giggly exchange of mockery and foolishness making Hermione feel like she was a Hogwarts student with a mischief yet to manage.

"Ginny! I said I don't want to hear it!"

"Oh come on Hermione! Don't act so unblemished! It's only me!"

" _Specially_ because it's you!"

"Whatever; so I told him I would buy the cutest, frilliest, laciestset of…- ''

''Ginevra! This is my close-to-brother who we're talking about here!''

''- Okay, fine. I'll stop now.''

When Harry arrived to pick Ginny up for lunch, and as the girl fondly kissed Hermione on the cheek and waved back at her from outside the door, the brunette realized what a terribly smart woman the redhead was. Ginny would never cease to surprise her. In a matter of seconds, and for the duration of long hours, she had made Hermione forget everything about Malfoy, the bonding, and the Order of Salazar. And the witch was sure she'd been perfectly aware of it.

' _Merlin bless the fiery minx'_

After Ginny and Harry had left, Hermione started to feel slightly shaken. With every passing hour, she was closer to merging her magical core with a stranger. No; with more than a stranger. With someone who abhorred her, who apparently despised every inch of her existence. She was nervous, visibly upset. But she was also determined; she was doing it for a reason, wasn't she?

For Harry; for her loved ones, for everyone who feared and trembled under the hand of the vicious killers of the Order. She would not let them down; this was in her power. Once, a very long time ago, Hermione had promised to herself and to the world that she would work until her last breath to protect those less favored and endangered. This was no exception, and she wouldn't make it one either. Her fears and her uneasiness had to stop; sometimes you had to do things you didn't like in order to help those you loved. She knew better than anybody else.

So, with a stubborn frown covering her big, brown eyes, and an endless pile of ancient, dusty books, Hermione immersed herself in the world of Wizarding History and Salazar Slytherin.

'' _Salazar Slytherin was one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a skillful, brilliant wizard, though at times, his tendencies to brush the edge of darkness gave him no good name. It was this infamous name after whom the Slytherin house was created. He deeply believed Hogwarts should have been selective about its admission of magical students, only opening doors to those who came from all-magic families. He believed that students of Muggle parentage were untrustworthy. The differences in philosophies caused a rift between the founders, and Slytherin left the school.''_

Well, Hermione knew that much. She had read the history of Hogwarts more times than she could count. Disappointed in the first volume, she took the following.

'' _As time went by, Salazar Slytherin became increasingly resentful and guarded.''_

The feel to this narrative was different. It was tinted with something more. Something deeper. Unable to hold her curiosity back, the witch buried her nose in the book.

'' _Having been born in a time when muggles prosecuted, convicted, and murdered witches and wizards mercilessly, he held no place in his heart for those who sympathized with the magicless community. Years went by, and muggle's effervescent magical bloodlust ceased; soon, contracts and deals where signed by both kinds in the midst of a seemingly newfound era of peace between races. But Salazar believed none of it; and he always remained wary of the said pacts. His theories were regrettably confirmed, when a muggle fanatic seeking chaos and misery, ventured into his home in a day when he was out, and assassinated his beloved wife, a pureblood witch dearly loved by Slytherin. This tragic event set a turning point in Salazar's life. Wrath got hold of his actions, his body crippled with pain upon the loss of his wife, and made him end countless muggle lives with the promise that those who were to be faithful to the true purity of magic and real magical blood, would be rewarded with the divine bestowal of untarnished power and control.''_

''Oh dear Merlin…'' Hermione whispered, her hand drawing to her chest, were she felt a pang of pity tugging at her heart. It was no wonder he'd been so intolerant. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost, because the loss of a loved one could never excuse murder. No matter who or what they were to them. She took a deep breath and her eyes turned to the book one more time, to read the last few lines left on the subject.

'' _After his image, it is said that numerous wizards have built up their lifestyle and ideologies all throughout history, including the infamous Lord Voldemort, said to be his rightful heir. The dark wizard was responsible of thousands of cessations and murders, as he attempted to conquer the Wizarding World by force, and he would have, had he not been stopped by its Savior, Harry James Potter. the Boy Who Lived.''_

Hermione sighed, closing the book and bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

The Order was product of Salazar's unfortunate loss. The murders, the attacks… even the actual war had been caused by a stupid muggle murderer who had triggered Salazar Slytherin's hunger for vengeance. It had been him and his followers who had carried out the assassinations, the tortures, the curses… but in the founder's case, he'd been heartbroken; devastated. It was a bitter story; really. Like one of those ancient romances which made your heart ache and your tears flood without a reason. Life'd been unfair to him. It'd taken from him the only thing he probably loved, and by using a muggle, no less. And then life'd made him unfair.

An eye for an eye. Or rather, the whole muggle population for an eye.

The sound of the front door opening startled Hermione out of her thoughts. Suddenly, she noticed the late evening lighting which barely managed to sneak through the window and illuminate a fraction of the room. She hadn't realized it'd been so late; it was almost dark. As she heard footsteps approach, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Stiffly, she drew her legs away from her body and helped herself to her feet using the coffee table by her side. She didn't know what had suddenly gotten into her. Who did she fear it would be? What had her so on edge? She took a deep breath and waited.

A tousled head of bright red hair made its way through the door, and Hermione let out a ridiculously relieved breath.

''Ron! '' She exclaimed, her lips morphing into a soft smile.

''Hey Hermione! Everythin' alright? You look like you just saw Umbridge and her pink-cat army.''

Hermione let her shoulders relax and walked towards Ron, giving him a light hug. ''I'm okay, just a little startled. I wasn't expecting you.''

''Yes, I know. Sorry 'bout that. Should've told you.''

''What? Don't apologize! This is your house Ronald'' They both took seat on the sofas. ''Is there anything on your mind?''

''Actually, erm… Harry sent me, to pick you up for - well, you know what for.'' Ron's voice was slightly shaky. Hermione was impressed; he was rather calm. Not furious, like she had pictured he would be when he found out; not raging… he didn't even look too angry. A small frown decorated his freckly forehead, and the witch could tell his was putting his sweat and efforts into being calm and composed.

This sent a wave of tenderness throughout her body. Ron was probably fuming; he was probably so enraged that he'd had to spent the whole day away from Grimmauld. And yet, he was giving everything he had into not making her any more nervous than she was. He was controlling himself for her sake, because he knew - he _had_ to know - that the wait was driving her crazy.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed how the redhead slipped a hand in his pocket, and took out a small object. Driven by pure curiosity, she turned towards him fully, and stared at the device questioningly. Ron was looking down at his hand where the silvery object lay. A few moments after he'd taken it out, when Hermione had started thinking that the wizard was merely going to stare at it until it spontaneously exploded, he looked up at her and gestured her to bring up her own hand.

''What is it?'' She asked quietly, her fingers tracing the outline of the silvery, oval artifact. It almost looked like a pendant; like a locket.

''It's a Hideout Hair locket.'' He paused, as if giving her a few minutes to let the name sink in. ''I know - or at least I can imagine - how scared and frustrated you must be, 'Mione. I know you've probably spent all bloody day investigating bonding and checking out side-effects.''

Hermione smiled meaninglessly at herself; she'd done it, he was right.

''My mum always told me bonding was an act of sacrifice and selflessness. She always use to say: 'Bonding happens when you value most to care for another's soul than your own'. I understand, that this is not what it will mean today. It will be uncomfortable, and unasked for, and you'll probably both be wary about it. That's not how bondings are meant to work, you know. Magic, my mum says, is smart. She says it always can tell. So, I brought you this. It's an old family piece; you see, we don't have many, but the ones which we do turn out to be pretty useful; right?'' He smiled sweetly, with a hint of hesitation tinting his voice. ''Alright - so I'll tell you how it works. When a bonding doesn't work right, your magical core can be threatened; it could almost… sort of like slip out of you, you know? This locket, it protects you.''

His hands reached to hers, and he picked up the locket gingerly, showing it to the witch.

''It will be open during the whole ceremony. If - which will _not_ happen but just to be sure - something goes wrong, It will release a spell which will corner your jeopardized core and confine it inside itself. Afterwards, using a spell both Harry and myself know, we can release it and let it merge back into you. It's rather simple, really. And I thought… well, I thought maybe you needed some reassurance and something which would make you feel more protected, on a different level than us.''

Ron let out a small, surprised yelp when Hermione's arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He could feel the little halts in her breathing, and the light shaking on her small hands. He let her rest in the crook of his neck for as long as she needed, until she finally broke contact and pulled back. Her eyes were rather watery, but there were no tears at sight. Ron still couldn't wrap his head around the witch's bravery. It was like she was built solely on altruism and determination.

''Thank you, Ron. Truly. You have no idea how much safer and comforted this makes me feel.''

''Don't mention it! 'Tis the least I could do. Actually, it's the _only_ thing I can do. That, and offer to punch Malfoy in the middle of that snotty face of his if he dares to lay a bloody finger on you.''

Hermione sighed. She truly hadn't felt the pressure of the bonding dawn on her as heavily as it was now. It was crushing her. Making her breathe with difficulty; making her head spin and her heart beat as loudly as a gong inside her chest. In that moment, she could swear Ron could hear it clashing against her ribcage. Trying her hardest to breathe out and to put her stomach churning thoughts aside, Hermione wrapped her hands around the locket and pressed it against her chest.

She was lucky to have Harry and Ron as her friends. She was so, enormously lucky.

And then, she was also utterly jinxed to have Draco Malfoy as his future bonding partner. Wallowing like she was in self pity, Hermione was starting to feel like a helpless unfortunate maid in the hands of a merciless, soulless being. And she despised it. It was not the case; this had been a voluntary choice. She'd actually had a choice. And she'd decided to step in for the team, and let herself help in whatever way she could. Also (although this she didn't think she would ever admit to anybody out loud), she believed Malfoy to be something more. There was more to him than a spineless, rude spoilt pureblood with a tendency to relish in self-proclaimed superiority. That was all a façade, and Hermione was sure it would have to fall at some point. Even if only for his mother.

''It's okay, Ron. I can take care of myself. I'm alright.''

''Nobody would blame you if you weren't.''

''It's not that bad, Ron, I promise. He is just so… him. Why couldn't have it been with you, or Harry, or Theo? It would have been so easy…''

''I know, I know… '' He said, his voice soft and slightly timid, as he turned to Hermione and held her gaze steadily. ''But Hermione, when, on Merlin's grave, have you ever liked easy?''

His words followed her for a long time. She repeated them in her brain, as she slipped into her robes and let Ron set up the wards. She could still hear them when she grasped the locket tightly in her hands and felt her body pulled in all directions simultaneously, as she side-longed with Ron. They were in the back of her mind by the time the crisp air of the night creeped into her hooded face and caressed her features softly. _When have you ever liked easy?_

 _Never. Easy is for cowards; for conformists. Easy is not for me. It never has been, and it never shall be._

The air was crisp. It tickled her skin, and ruffled the strands of hair which slipped out from under her hood and framed her hidden cheeks, coloured rosée from the cold strokes of the wind.

Before she spotted the three hooded figures approaching her, she felt a reassuring squeeze on her left hand. Ron nodded at her once, and then left her side, heading towards the others.

And then she only felt stiffness, stillness and cold.

Watching the three other men sauntering slowly towards her, she swore she made out a pair of glinting, mercury eyes dangerously fixed on her own. It would be a long night. A terribly long night.

* * *

 _Alright! I am going to list the two reasons why yo want to kill me right now_

 _1\. I'm a week late._

 _2\. The bonding didn't happen in this chapter_

 _Now, I beg for mercy and forgiveness, but first my excuses:_

 _1\. I was studying for two exams which I aced and am very proud to have taken. One Human Genetics, another Parasitology. Go me!_

 _2\. I had no time to edit that part and I decided to at least post this part first and then do the bonding properly in a couple of days. You see, it's a very complicated chapter, that one is. Almost entirely **Draco's POV**. You'll love it._

 _Okay, so yes. I hope you forgive me and you like this first part of chapter 9!_

 _ **Leave a review**! It will make me super happy, inspire me, motivate me, and make me love you even more than I already do, if that's possible. _

_PS: Ron's scene with Hermione is meant to be sweet and tender, but by no means romantic. Its there to show you the depth of their friendship; their failed attempt at romantic involvement never stopped them from being friends again, and after a while since their breakup they went back to caring for each other as much as they did before._

 _Till a few days on!_

 _Love you lots_

 _Horned Serpent_


	11. Chapter 9B

_**Disclaimer:**_ Every recognizable character, scenery or canon storyline FULLY belongs to JKRowling and Warner Bros. I make no profit from this whatsoever.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 9.B**

The first time Draco had broken a china vase in the Manor's west-wing tea room, he'd received a generous scolding. He could remember it vividly; the intermittent twitch on his father's right eyebrow, the delicate edges of his mother's stern expression. It had been a rather blue day for him; his infant self hadn't been used to being told off, let alone being punished with his mother's unflinching, blank gaze.

The second time, he'd been able to cover it up. He'd managed to threat one of the eldest house elves effectively enough, that it helped him clean up the evidence and leave the place spotless, clear of all framing evidence. Six-year-old Draco hadn't known anything about cleaning, repairing or building spells. Or any spells, for that matter; except a few drafty incantations taught to him by Theo, involving punishable mischiefs and naughty misdeeds.

The third time, he'd been ten years old. He'd been caught red-handed by his mother. Draco didn't think he'd ever felt so terrified, as in that particular moment, when he had cautiously looked up from the shattered mess of ancient china scattered all over the marble floors, and he'd found his face bump straight into Narcissa's heels. He didn't think time had ever passed as slow as it had in those seconds it had taken for him to look up to his mother, her arms crossed delicately over her chest, and her icy eyes piercing his own round, wide-open ones.

Draco remembered he hadn't apologized. He'd said nothing as he dropped the shard he'd picked up with his bare hands and had slowly got to his feet, crestfallen, ready to face his mother's wrath. She'd surprised him by saying nothing for a while. It'd been a silent exchange composed of fearful shame and tense anticipation. And then, when his mother had spoken, her words hadn't been what he'd expected.

'' _Draco, do you know how this vase can be fixed?''_

'' _Yes, mother. You ought to use a spell.''_

'' _Indeed, you do. Do you know which is the proper spell to use?''_

'' _I do, mother. It's Reparo''_

Narcissa's lips had twitched, and Draco'd felt a twinge of pure pride inside of him, as he'd recognized the hint of a small smile on his mother's mouth.

'' _Why do you think we use a spell, Draco?''_

'' _Because… it's the right way to fix it?'' He'd answered dubiously, his brows furrowing as he'd tried to reflect on her unexpected question._

'' _Listen to me, my boy. Do you know how it works, when you use a spell to repair something?''_

Draco had shaken his head lightly, hypnotized, as he'd watched his mother's cold eyes, and listened to her smooth voice.

'' _When you throw a spell, Draco, you use up a lot of strength and concentration, do you not? I'll tell you what makes magic so precious, so unequalled. You should know, that as you flick and swish your wand, in an attempt to cure, amend, and create, you're quite literally pouring part of yourself into your task. You allow magic to surge throughout your body; you warm it up, channel it, and then you let it go, you release it into the world around you. Do you know why the object gets fixed, when you say a spell, Draco? It's because you're gifting it a part of yourself; as you perform, you're wrapping each small, broken shard of porcelain with your own undying, unprofane magic; you touch it with your own untarnished soul. You protect it, and with what's inside of you, you bestow the integrity it has lost unnaturally. With the gift of your own magic, you give it a second chance.''_

Draco'd blinked, entranced, as he'd watched his mother speak. Her words had sounded like a prayer, like she'd unveiled the essence of his own magic to him, which, in a way, she had.

Now, Draco was standing in front of a woman. As he watched a soft breeze sneak in through her hooded face, and make a few strands of curly hair sway lightly, he wondered if his mother had been right. She'd never told him there was an antagonistic side to the gift of magic. Maybe, magic could not only fix… but also destroy? Tarnish? Blemish? Perhaps his mother had never thought that by releasing his magic, he'd ever be polluting somebody's soul, rather than repairing it? No; she would've never accepted it.

He wondered, bitterly, if he'd be besmirching the witch's unmarred core. There was an unnaturally exempting component to fixing with magic, to pouring yourself to something external to you. But was it also natural to break? To scathe?

As the years had gone by, his mother had extrapolated her explanation to other events which he'd have to go through in life. Including his own bonding to a witch. She'd told him that through his magic, Draco would stand in for what his counterpart lacked. Everything which his future wife would scarcely possess, he would gift to her, by merging his core with hers. She would be meant to do the same for him, when the time came; she would make up for everything the wizard would never be able to have on his own; she would fill his incomplete core to the brim.

He also wondered, if there was something Hermione Granger lacked, which he could ever be expected to possess. There surely wasn't. Nothing admirable, at least. And as for the impurity of her blood, did the untaintedness of her soul make up for it? She lacked in social standing, she lacked in wizarding blood... But she exceeded him in chasteness of her soul, by a milestone.

It wasn't something he'd ever expected himself to have been reflecting on. It wasn't something he'd ever _wish_ to dwell on.

And now he found his mother's welfare in not only his own jinxed hands, but also in the hands of a woman whom he'd never been able to even tolerate. On that night, that woman would supposedly be gifting him everything he'd never dreamed of having. Everything he'd never even believed in.

He didn't want to feel like instead of repairing, he'd broken something again. Something which he new he later wouldn't be able to fix. He didn't want to be the tainted counterpart; the lacking match. He shouldn't be. His mother had taught him to be ahead of things, to be the one on top. This woman would go up against everything his mother prepared him for; and yet, ironically, part of the result of her involvement would be Narcissa's sparing.

Dammed irony. Dammed bonding. Dammed Hermione Granger and her ever-so-pure magic.

He watched closely, as the wizard staying next to her squeezed her hand reassuringly, and then left her side. Why would she need such encouragement and support? Did she fear for her magic? Did she know, as Draco did, that he'd be polluting her pristine essence with his dark one?

 _Of course she knows, you witless ass_

Draco lowered his gaze, as he recognised her attempts to search for it with her own. She probably wanted to make him feel bad. She was trying to get him to suffer further, to drown in guilt for tarnishing her soul. He knew what her intentions were; she wished for him to wallow in self hatred for being a tainted miscreant.

Well, he wouldn't. He would not shake; let alone in front of her. He would not let her see the unresting pang of guilt which was eating him up inside.

 _Unflinching, steady, firm, unwavering._

That's the only thing she should see when she looked at him.

Something inside of him told Draco that he knew better than to think the girl was _that_ guileless. She would see right through him. She would strip him bare just like she had the previous night inside that dim lit room, wrapped in the arms of inebriated illusions.

He clenched his jaw, and forced his never ending speculations to cease. It would not help him, to dwell on. The fact was, he was to be bonded to Hermione Granger. In mere hours, she'd be an intrinsic part of him, and vice versa. There was nothing he could do about it. He'd stand his ground, for his mother, like she'd always told him to do.

So he stood, tall and proud amidst the feelings of disgust, guilt, and uneasiness which plagued him. He didn't fidget, as Hermione turned to watch him. He didn't flinch, as the rustling of her robes made his senses jerk awake. He merely watched, silent and guarded, as the witch stepped towards where he was standing. Between them, amidst a bed of fallen leaves, sat an unevenly cut down tree trunk. On the centre of its rough, crooked surface, lay the pocket watch inertly.

''Draco, stop staring at the watch like that. You'll set it on fire.''

Draco looked up immediately after the masculine voice broke the tense silence. It belonged to an amused Theo standing right behind him.

Theo had - mere hours back - retrieved Draco from his lost and drunken state, and (much to his chagrin) taken him back home. He'd sobered him up; forcefully convinced him to shower, and by diligently wearing his patience to the thinnest layer of utter annoyance, he'd sparked his inner fury back, and make him go back to his senses. Had it not been for him, Draco would still be tearing up shabby rent rooms in an inebriated frenzy. He still hadn't thanked him.

Maybe after the bonding, with a slice of Hermione Granger's morally flawless magical cake, he'd be more prone to do so.

 _Merlin forbid._

''Alright. Hermione, Malfoy, just a couple of details before we start.''

Potter's voice echoed lightly against the foliage and trees surrounding the gathering. He remained hooded, too; his face hid beneath the shade of his navy uniform cloak. Even if he hadn't been, the lush, overgrown vegetation didn't let enough moonlight through to have let him tell his features clearly. They'd been uncommonly lucky to have a full moon come up so timely; usually, bondings took up to a year to prepare. Between sorting out the legal requirements to be able to request a permit -marriage and bondings, in wizarding Britain, were highly regulated and followed from very close distance by the Ministry-, and managing to pick the date on a solid full moon, it was no wonder witches and wizards often got married outside the country.

With a light flick of his wand, Potter made a short scroll roll out before him. As he got ready to read aloud, Draco couldn't help himself; out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance of the witch standing right across from him. Her posture was stiff and her chin was slightly tilted upwards. She acted defiant and determined, even in their situation.

 _What a proud, infuriating, stubborn mess of a witch.._

Suddenly feeling somewhat defied, Draco straightened his back even further than he already had. He was absurdly satisfied - and acted like he didn't notice - when the woman's head turned to peek at him curiously.

''The bonding requires blood.''

''Brand new, groundbreaking information, Potter.''

''Malfoy, shut the hell up.'' Weasley muttered, annoyed.

' _You half-witted brute_ ' Draco bit his tongue. He was in no mood to fight, but surely no one could expect him not to give his invaluable input?

''Silence, please. The blood will be extracted from both of you using a silver blade against the palm of your hand. For the duration of the whole process, you won't be able to close the wound.''

Draco rolled his eyes. Granger, by his side, didn't flinch. She nodded lightly, when Harry looked at her.

''You will follow my instructions, and do or say exactly what I tell you to. The full moon is on its highest point, guys, and this is a very powerful, ancient ritual. So, try to remain alert, and focus as hard as you can on what you're doing. This is no average bonding.''

There, he saw it! The witch's instinctive, concerned frown, her pursed lips, her nervous fidgeting.

''Getting all jittery now, Granger?'' Draco whispered, as a gentle heat started to irradiate from his chest. He was nervous himself, and he was trying fruitlessly to get a hold of the situation; to hold the reins. He thought that, perhaps, it would allow him to feel more in control if Granger were to be completely void of it.

''Cringey, actually. Rather used to it by now; it happens every time you're anywhere near.''

Harry cleared his throat, and their conversation was over. Neither of them commented on the other's faltering voice; their wavering speech. They both knew they sounded just as wrecked as the other did. Which is why, under Harry's command, Hermione and Draco went back unceremoniously to their assigned positions: facing each other, the watch sitting right between them.

Draco's nerves were spiked to stratospheric levels. He couldn't actually tell if it was his nerves, his impatience, his irritation, his anger… He didn't know, but knowing wouldn't make the situation in hand any less dissatisfying, would it? So he took his time to make something up which could distract him; tear him apart from the imminent events, and at the same time not jeopardizing the ceremony.

He stood motionlessly, as he watched the wizards around the pair also resume their assigned spots. One behind the witch, who, ever so predictably, was Weasley. _One behind myself_ ; he counted, as he sensed Theo's presence behind him. He could almost picture the amused smirk plastered on his face, and his careless posture as he stood in his position.

And then Potter, the one who'd set the rhythm, the one in charge of orchestrating the ritual. He didn't have time for another single thought, before the Auror started reciting.

 _"Amidst the darkness of dusk, embraced by the hallowed light of a perishing day, protected within the confinement of untarnished nature and a loyal ensemble, we gather beneath the soaking wisdom of a timeless moon, bestowing its fullest splendour among the blackness of the unforgiving nightfall."_

The chanting words of the ancient ceremony rang in Draco's ears as loud as a deafening concert of trumpets and horns playing death marches in his honour. He shifted his weight, conscious of the timid glance which his bonding counterpart was throwing upon him.

 _"Let the enhancing rays of moonlight guide us into the unveiled secrets of magic. Let its immortal power damp our skin and surge throughout us, as we carry out the holiest rituals of union. Let the white rays of unblemished might be our lead, as we bound these two magical beings before us."_

The wizard felt the start of an unwelcome sensation take over his insides, as Potter ordered them to kneel.

 _"This bond will make one of two. It will give and gift, but it shall also take and claim. By the words said upon this bed of moonlight, you will hereby merge together in their grandest of sacrifices and the most eximious of rewards. Do you both, in the presence of witness and in full capability, concur?"_

Somehow, Draco hadn't expect for Hermione to answer along. At some point, during his impassive, irrational trance, he hadn't even acknowledged her presence in front of him. Yet, how had he not? He asked himself now, as he watched the witch's determined posture, her attempt at a steady expression, the unnoticeable traces of insecurity and distrust in her demeanour as her mauve lips, tinted with the crispness of the nightly air, released their tight pressure and let her soft, wavering voice roll out of her tongue.

"I do."

Silence fell upon the scene, and Draco's gut tightened and twisted inside of him. It was a strange, unsettling scenery. It was churning his insides and toying with his head. _You don't. You don't want this. Say you don't want it. It's wrong, Granger; you're sacrificing too much. Don't be stupid. You are so goddammed stupid. You are not the bloody saviour of humanity. Don't be so dammed conceited. Don't do this; not for me_.

And then he remembered what he'd forgotten in the midst of a bewitching atmosphere. She wasn't doing it for him. How could he have thought that? What an idiot could ever have even contemplated the idea? She was nowhere close to doing it for him. She was doing it for the wizarding and muggle community, for peace, for exemption, for safety... And for his mother.

Maybe she was a little closer to doing it for him than he would have ever thought.

Suddenly, her startled gaze fell upon him, and something tightened inside his chest. _No, no, no ,no. Granger, don't look at me; don't make it harder to despise you like I so painfully want to. Don't look at me like that_. But then, he noticed the flash of annoyance and utter offense which took over her face, as she scrutinized his own, and he was forced to think harder, to try to figure out what had gotten into her so sporadically, for her to be suddenly looking at him that way.

He quickly realised, that the reason for her accusing glare was as clear as the expectancy which was swamping the static atmosphere.

He hadn't answered with his acquiescence.

 _Damn_.

"I do."

Draco heard Theo muffle a chuckle behind him, and it made him feel slightly ridiculous. And if there was one thing he didn't handle well (among many others), it was making a fool of himself. A deep scowl pulled his eyebrows down to cover his angry eyes. Hermione noticed, and he saw her shift on her knees uncomfortably. It was likely she thought he was scowling at her. More appropriate for the scene being carried out, he figured. He'd rather she believed that. It suited him better.

She didn't think she was the only one who didn't want to bond with the other, did she?

 _Of course she didn't, you half-wit._

 _"_ Extend your left arm towards the centre."

They both did as Harry ordered, reluctantly and begrudgingly pulling out their hands and letting them hover above the platinum device.

Draco didn't find anything too unsettling about their stance. But he did notice Hermione's attitude change. Her face fell, her tight lips parted open lightly, and within her eyes suddenly swam the strangest mix of emotions. It wasn't fear, it wasn't anger. Was it.. sadness? Regret? Pity? Why was the woman so appallingly indecipherable? What was she thinking, the overemotional loon?

But then he looked towards where her gaze had fallen, and he fell his own expression waver.

Both their cloaks had slid from their protective wrap around their left shoulders, and had thus exposed the slashes carved on her forearm. It made his stomach flip and his mouth dry up, to catch sight of the cursed word branding her body like cattle.

' _Mudblood_ '.

That night was something Draco hadn't let out of his 'never-to-relive' memory bundle package yet. He wasn't planning to, anytime soon. But the sight of the darkened letters slashed on her skin played with his mind, toyed with his buried memories and rejected thoughts, and suddenly, for the shortest of moments, in the most tormenting flash, the consuming echo of her deafening screams of pain, as she squirmed and twisted under his aunt's powerful curse, took over his whole body.

He looked away from her forearm, unwilling to relive the past unnecessarily. Those were her memories to grieve, her own demons to overcome. It wasn't his place to take a spot in a memory where he'd played a frightened, spineless pawn, too scared to let himself take a chance at an honourable and humane intervention. No, he didn't deserve to even be in possession of the memory of a grotesque night which surely plagued her dreams daily.

But surely her own scars didn't startle her every time she set her eyes on them? He knew what it was like, having despicable scars plastered on his skin as a constant reminder of a dark past, and he didn't think the witch was one to dwell on the past in that manner. He followed her own gaze, realising that perhaps, she hadn't been scrutinising her own arm, but rather his.

 _Oh of course, she had to be looking at you, you pathetic excuse of an inkmark_

And, had it been been possible, he would have felt even _more_ uncomfortable than he had before. And it wasn't only the sight of his Dark Mark, proudly staining his pale skin; spitefully tarnishing his delicate skin; mocking him, every time Draco looked at it.

It was what he thought the witch was seeing, just as he was. It was the reason why her eyes flickered from his forearm to her own, her eyes open wide with incredulity, her mouth dripping with thick irony.

Their arms, lifted one next to the other. His own, bearing the Dark Mark, the ultimate symbol of despise, violence, hate and blatant racism towards muggles... The epitome of evil. And then carelessly hanging right next to it, close enough to brush, carved on her arm was that eight-letter word which could summarise entirely the regrettable course of the Second Wizarding War.

Who, on Merlin's grave, was in charge of irony and when could he kill him?

It took more than a few moments for the four of them to stop staring at the uncommon match, so boldly displayed during the ritual which would bound their magic and blood together.

Harry moved, forcefully tearing his eyes from their arms, as he levitated the scroll, and bent over to pick up a burgundy, velvet case which had been resting on the ground in front of him. Draco hadn't noticed it had been there until then.

With careful, slow motions, the wizard took a large dagger out of the case. It shone brightly, as its pure silver reflected the misty light of the full moon. It looked almost alive, the blade so sharp it could've cut the tension palpable in the heavy ambience. Draco turned to watch Hermione, he would never admit it, but he was terribly curious as to what her reaction to the next task at hand would be.

She seemed truly an admirer of beauty in all shapes and forms. Or at least that's what he thought, unconsciously focused on watching how her mouth parted open and her eyes gleamed, as she ogled the blade reflecting the pristine, white light. It was rather poetic, he had to admit. He secretly wondered if that was what her core would look like; so clean, radiant, immaculate. She was enraptured. He didn't know why he'd expected fear, or reluctance, to dawn on her face. There wasn't even a hint of cowardice in the bushy haired witch. Maybe he should start getting used to it.

 _"One drop of magical blood from each counterpart, to release the magical life inside the elected bonding artefact."_

It barely stung, as the man pressed the blade against the flesh of his left hand. Draco watched, as he repeated the move on Hermione's small hand. A part of him, despite his abandoned prejudices and his absolved morals, didn't want to see the red drops as they poured out of her fresh wound. He didn't want to see flawless, wine red blood, undeniably exact to his. His stare was fixed on her face, as she steadily watched the blade sliding over her skin. It took less than a millisecond for her blood to start running out from inside her delicate, torn skin. Just as he'd done, she let it hover above the watch, and when a few drops fell on top of his own dripped blood, there was a small ' _click'._

The watch opened, and suddenly, the thin rays of moonlight which had been illuminating the small forest clearing, started dancing around the device, until every single hint of light which could be found was concentrated in the centre of the tiny sphere, all of it traveling straight into the core of the watch.

Draco heard them all gasp slightly taken aback, except for Theo, behind him, who didn't move one inch.

 _"Now, it's time. You will follow this lead, and as you carry out the feat, you will give yourself to each other, and receive each other in return. From then on, you will be mixed, you won't think for one, but for two. You will not feel for one, but for two. Handle this blessing wisely; use it to protect each other, to learn about yourselves and the other. You kneel braced beneath the power of moonlight, before the eyes of loyal witnesses, and facing the future holder of your own core."_

"Take each other's bleeding hands."

Draco gulped; Hermione looked away, her deep intakes of breath obvious to the naked eye. It was a tense moment. He would feel the clarity of her unequalled core in his veins, and she probably would feel the darkness of his surging through her own.

As their bleeding hands entwined, soaking in moonlight, Draco gave hers a light shake. He wanted her to look up from her insecure stance. He felt her warm blood mix with his own inside their palms. His breathing was starting to halt. He wanted Hermione to face him, to face up to what she'd sworn she concurred to. Where was her bravery, as her eyes shut close and her soft, damp skin stroked his own hesitantly? She was no shameful witch; she had promised to take his core and give it a purpose, had she not?

 _Well then look up and face me._

And when she did, he wasn't sure he'd known what he'd been asking for. The strength in her eyes blew him away. It was like he'd stepped into a red dessert; like suddenly, he'd been abducted and dragged to the other side of the world, somewhere plagued with steep canyons and mahogany forests. Amber, brown, earthy colours; as warm as the sun in the winter; as gentle as the caress of her soaked hands, bleeding into his own.

No, he'd most definitely had no idea what he'd been asking for.

For a while, nothing happened. Moonlight soaked their laced fingers, as burgundy tears rolled down their palms and onto the watch. Draco had a very overpowering need to fix his stare on Hermione and not pull it away. His eyes darted from her eyes to her hidden cheeks, to her dry, mauve lips and her wild curls slipping from under her hood. He was putting all his effort into focusing on her face; he wanted to take notice of every single expression which could eventually flash across her face.

But it was hard; Merlin, was it hard; because Hermione's burnished coloured eyes kept scalding his own like an excruciating punishment for his intended intrusion. He couldn't look away; it was mesmerizing. Yet, he didn't want to remain under her powerful grasp. He was starting to feel way too out of control. And if there is something which drove Draco Malfoy completely and irrevocably out of his mind, was not being in control. And this witch, _this stupid, goddamned witch_ , was seizing the upper hand and twisting to fulfill her needs and desire with a single hint of her penetrating gaze. It wasn't fair; it was unheard-of, unprecedented, outrageous. How dare she? How could she? Had she even noticed, that she'd had him wrapped around her finger for what had seemed like the longest, most tortuous of moments?

Draco counted thirty seconds before the watch suddenly jumped and shut close, hindering their shed blood and their shared looks within its confines. Hermione jumped lightly, and it caused her wet hand to slip from out of his own.

The void her fleeting hand had left in his, made a shiver take over and travel the long way up his spine. Surely, the contact hadn't been as comforting, that it made him now long her touch?

 _No, of course not. You've done it, you've bonded. Wait for Potter to spit the last words out and get the hell away from there._

And so he did.

'' _As the binding ceremony comes to its end, we ask of the two parts to keep the following pattern in mind: At the beginning, you will not understand; you will not tell your own feelings from the other's apart. Later on, you will be able not only to tell them apart but to identify them, put words to them, help relieve the other of them, were them to be ill. Lastly, you will have the capability to explore the other's feelings and project your own to them as a response. You will be able to decipher, integrate, answer… All without a single word.''_

'' _Yet, this system is not near being flawless. It is driven by passion, exhilarating emotions, terrifying fear, foolish infatuation…. One ought to hold the purest intentions at heart, or it will turn out that the channel between your souls will shut down and turn away from you. A bond is a hallowed sacrament, to be taken seriously as such. Should you not, it could be dangerous for yourself and the other. You are blessed, with an untouchable connection, forged with magical blood. Embrace it.''_

Harry fell silent, after the last two words of the text, and Draco swore he could hear Theo's endless snickering behind him in his mind. What a night it had been. He couldn't wait to turn away from the witch and confine himself within the walls of his safe home, where he wouldn't have to turn to the other side to avoid locking his eyes with the powerful stare of the brunette. Where he wouldn't have to stand up straight and attempt to prove a point; where his arrogant, poised façade could slip off his face at least for the shortest of forgiving nights.

Harry flicked his wand, and the scroll rolled itself back in. He then walked a few steps forward, towards where the small witch still knelt before the watch, and offered her a hand to get her to her feet. She got on her feet, obediently.

He wondered if there would be a time when she'd comply to him the way she did with her closest, loved ones. The bond ought to have them change and reshape to fit the other, right? So it wasn't such a crazy thought, the one in which he pictured a timid smile parting her lips, as she stared straight at him?

 _Are you made out of bloody cotton-candy clouds and rainbows, you git? Get a bloody grip._

What on Merlin had him thinking about it like that? He had to leave. Soon.

No traces of the bond, just hints of her upper handed, powerful stance flashed his mind as he turned around towards Theo, and gestured for him to follow.

He wanted to dwell no more on the binding. He wanted to think no more of their shared cores, of the warm tickling inside his stomach. He wanted nothing to do with the brown eyed, bushy haired woman whom he'd now be destined to harmoniously work with.

Damn fate, damn destiny and bonds, damn irony and all its stupid variations, which so happened to have all caught up with him at the same time.

Unable to resist the magnetizing pull of her curious, startled eyes, he glanced from the corner of his eye, and turned. Barely an inch. By no means a full half-turn. Not even close to a proper peek. And yet it was more than enough to watch the crestfallen disappointment which suddenly took over her visage, as she watched him take off into the depths of the forest, without a single word and with Theo trailing behind him.

He didn't know what to make of that. He didn't know what to make of anything, really. So he strode towards the apparition point and said nothing, walking in a hurried, fast pace, and paying no mind to the drops of blood which had tinted his entire arm and was still dripping from under his sleeve.

It wasn't only _his_ blood that was escaping his wound and being shed so carelessly. It wasn't only his. Not anymore.

* * *

 _Hello hello!_

 _Said the bonding would be up soon; the bonding was indeed up soon. Its waaaay past my recommendable bedtime and I'm completely exhausted BUT I did it anyways and I just wanted to make sure I kept my promise to you!_

 _Anyways; I very much enjoyed writing this chapter; I love Draco's trails of thoughts and his little cursing rampages. Adorable!_

 _Thanks for stopping by, I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I did by writing it! Don't forget to leave a pretty little **REVIEW** for me to try outdo myself next time! Tell me if you liked it and if you didn't, and why! It keeps me motivated and inspired. So thank you, in advance!_

 _See you next chap: **How will Draco and Hermione discover the bond's effects? And how will they learn to control it?**_

 _Much love!_

 _Horned Serpent_


	12. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Every recognizable character, scenery or canon storyline fully belongs to JKRowling & co.

* * *

 **Chapter 10 **

Harry leant his elbows onto his knees and sighed, covering his face with the sweaty palms of his hands.

"Chief Potter, I'm afraid there was nothing we could do to..."

"That's the problem Douglas; There never is a damn thing we can do to prevent these bloody attacks!"

The Auror tore his eyes from his boss' wrathful face and gave him a short nod.

"They're getting stronger, more numerous and dangerous and we're sitting here mourning losses and drinking earl grey while the lives of hundreds of innocents are _jeopardized_!"

"Chief, sir, with all due respect, there hadn't been any activity in more than four weeks and there was no way we could've foreseen this sudden change in MO..."

"I'm tired of excuses Douglas, and the rest of the Wizarding World will be, too. I want the whole department on the case straight away. _All_ strange activity will be registered, every single wizard with even the smallest criminal record will be questioned, and we will watch every Floo connection, every Portkey and every owl that makes its way out of a cage. Have I made myself clear?"

''Yes, sir.''

The Auror named Douglas nodded, and clapped his heels together loudly, before bowing lightly and walking out the large doors to Harry's office.

The door shut itself behind the disappearing figure of the wizard, and the one remaining behind slumped discouragingly over a black leather armchair.

It'd been a long, torturous day, full of devastating news. The Order of Salazar had struck yet again, out of the blue, after almost a month of inexistent activity and not even a hint of a menacing message or an articulate threat. Harry had woken up to the unsettling yelp of a Caterwaulling Charm in his room at Grimmauld Place. He'd rushed off to the office in his nightwear and his uniform robes, hastily and haphazardly wrapped around his shoulders, without even turning to glance back at Hermione's mortified expression and Ron's alarmed stomping down the stairs, as he's stepped into the fireplace and loudly pronounced the words to reach the Ministry.

As was to be expected, he'd been late. They'd all been.

He'd arrived at the Atrium of the Ministry to the heart-wrenching hustle of a bunch of his Aurors, discombobulated expressions plastered on their faces, and the limp, inert body of a young woman laying in a wizard's shaky arms. Harry hadn't been able to do anything but sink to the ground, as he'd reached the lifeless body and stared, horrified, into her dead eyes.

He hadn't recognised her, not by the least. It hadn't been the mere sight of her, but the actual crushing reality check which had struck him, and dunk him on his knees against the cold, hard floor, helplessly sprawled in front of her. He'd been filled with dread, as he'd watched the features of the witch changing shapes and morphing into the pale, freckled face of Hermione, staring back at him, void of all essence of life. It had stung him so deep, for a minute he had thought he'd lost his ability to breathe.

Now he rocked back and forth on his seat, his head resting on the back of the chair defeatedly, as he swept his hand through his tousled hair and sighed, trying to erase the image of the woman's blank, empty look as she laid ecstatic in the Auror's arms. The exhausted breath hadn't left his lips completely, before the door to his office sprung open, and Ginny's startled, terrified face came into view. Her small frame made a important contrast with the imposing hardwood doors, towering at her sides, as she unclasped the front of her robes and let them fall behind her, rushing to the wizards' side.

The soft, pale skin of her cheeks was covered in damp trails of angry tears, still gathering under her glassy eyes and threatening to fall as she stumbled in front of Harry's chair, and fell on her knees, hastily and clumsily grabbing at his calves and resting her torn face against his knees. Harry didn't say a word, as he leant forward and rested his head on the girl's.

''Shhe...'' A small sob broke Ginny's voice. ''She w-was in my c-class..'' She finally managed to blurt out, as she looked up at her fiancé's face and sniffed lightly.

Harry nodded, beaten, as he drew his hand to her face and stroked the wet skin along her jawline. His stomach had flipped and was now tightly scrunched inside his abdomen. The sight of the witch sprawled hopelessly in front of him, her watery, hazel eyes reaching far into his chest and painfully crushing his heart, was almost unbearable to him.

''I know, I know...'' He whispered softly, his fingers delicately brushing her hair out of her face. ''I'm sorry.''

Ginny sniffed, as a strong sob threatened to force its way out of her throat, and nodded, a light hiccups interrupting her actions.

''Come up here.'' Harry pled, his shaky hands reaching her sides and pulling her upwards. Her light weight gave in under his pull, and she let him drag her until she was curled up over his lap, her face leaning into his warm chest.

The wizard pressed a light kiss over her forehead, and wrapped his arms around Ginny. She sighed, and let her eyes flutter close under his protective embrace.

''She was hilarious, you know.'' She paused, rubbing at her nose quickly as she swallowed a gargled sob. ''Fred and George once tried pulling a pretty nasty prank on her during our third year at Hogwarts. She made it out unscathed because she'd figured out the whole feat before it even took place.''

Ginny paused, her head buzzing loudly as she brushed the remaining tears off her face and took a deep breath.

''I saw her last week, Harry. She came over to celebrate our engagement. She was photographed there, with me.''

Her voice had faded into an almost inaudible mumble, and Harry caught on what her trembling words were hiding. She thought it'd been her fault, for putting her in the public's eye; for showing off their close relationship, her affiliation with them. He frowned lightly, trying to figure out the proper way to soothe the girl's concerns, to try to reach out to her and, ideally, drive her guilty fears far, far away from her stormy mind.

But he knew he wouldn't be able to do it, because, truly, it _was_ likely that those pictures had been the trigger of the attack. It was possible that the members of the Order had come across the images of his joyful fiancée and the muggle-born witch, and that they'd thought it a way to hurt them directly, to strike closer to home than ever. It was a worrying thought, but it was there. And they couldn't ignore it, now less than ever.

So he didn't answer. He knew Ginny didn't want him to. He, himself, didn't want to. He pressed a feather-light kiss on the side of her head and grabbed onto her with a little more strength, slipping his hands behind her knees and over her back and making sure she was holding onto him securely enough, before he rose from his seat and carried her towards the fireplace.

She didn't even flinch, as Harry's arms took her weight and stepped into the Floo, and she didn't make a single move either when he bent his knees lightly to grab a handful of Floo Powder and, with a loud, unwavering enunciation, pronounced her house's name.

''The Burrow.''

* * *

'''Hermione, please stop. You'll wear yourself out, and Harry could call for us any minute now."

The witch rubbed her hands together and let out a sharp breath. She managed to stand still for a whole thirty seconds before she was back to her hysterical pacing around the room. Her head was all over the place; her pulse racing and her heart threatening to jump out of her chest at any given minute. She couldn't wrap her head around the current events taking place, and the torturously long wait was eating at her insides slowly and painfully. Tightly swaddled in her burgundy night gown, Hermione'd completely let her wrecked nerves take over her body.

''I just... I don't understand anything that's going on. Didn't Theo and Draco tell us the Order would be stepping back for a few more weeks!? How could they not have known?'' An anguished expression took over her face suddenly, and she turned around towards Ron. The redhead was stiffly leaning back into the sofa, his big hands clasped together over his knees in front of him, and a light frown crowning his forehead as he watched the woman pace back and forth anxiously. ''I know they've killed again, and I also know Harry won't want to tell me. I need to know, Ron. Please don't let him push me aside.''

The wizard sighed defeatedly at her plead, and nodded.

''I'll do my best, but he _is_ our boss, 'Mione.''

''How can you remain so calm and collected?''

Ron shrugged, unaffected by her accusatory tone. ''I'm trying not to panic until the moment Harry says it's panic-worthy.'' He frowned lightly, and stared back at the fidgeting witch. ''I think he'll need at least one of us to remain collected... You know, to help him get along.''

Hermione huffed, frustrated by his wise observation. She _knew_ Harry needed her in full capability; she knew _he_ was the wizard carrying the whole tragedy on his shoulders, and that she had no right to be as shaken as him by the attacks, but, really, could she be blamed? She'd been under the happy, unconcerned illusion that the War had ended... but had it _actually_? Weren't blood-purists supposed to be gone? Wasn't she supposed to be living in a peaceful, safe world? Free of danger, free of unnecessary shame for having been born into the family which she had?

She had to be strong; for Harry. And not only for him, but for herself, too. After all, what these murderers were after wasn't anything but witches and wizards much like herself, fatefully born into the hands of magic-less people.

She collected herself, took a deep breath, and let her fears dissolve into thin air as she exhaled and emptied her lungs.

''You're right.''

Ron nodded, and followed her movements with his eyes, as she took a seat by his side. He was glad to have transferred at least a minimal amount of assurance to the erratic witch. She had always been a tough one to tame once her nerves had started spiking. He watched her, as she intently glowered at the floor, and her breathing halted. Her deep scowl had faded lightly, and only by seeing that he knew she felt better, at least to some extent.

Hermione was sitting with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and her sight was steadfastly focused on a single spot somewhere on the worn out carpet.

But soon enough, her intense glaring was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell filling the house. The unexpected ring startled her so much, that she felt her hands get shaky, and before she had blinked twice, the carpet burst into flames.

''HERMIONE, WHAT THE HELL''

''I'M SORRY! I-I'M SO SORRY!''

As fast as she could, Hermione launched forward towards where her wand was resting over the low coffee table, and cast a hurried _Aguamenti_ over the blazing flames.

She felt Ron behind her walk quickly towards the door and pull it open, while she sat next to the scorched corner, staring unsettled at the spot where the sudden outburst of her uncontrolled magic had caused shambles. It was so uncharacteristic of her to react in such an external way. Her outbursts of magic had never been so disarrayed; not even when she'd been a young child.

At the back of her mind, she heard Ron letting out a stream of unprecedented curses from the doorway, and, curious as to what had incited his sudden anger, she turned towards the door.

When she spotted the head of platinum hair popping into the room, she felt a wave of something between dread, anger and utter confusion take over her body. Her head was starting to pound strongly.

It didn't get any better, as she watched how Draco walked across the room in two big strides and grabbed her by the forearms, pulling her upwards in a vigorous yank. His overpowering scent took over her senses and she found herself not knowing if she was standing, sitting or sprawled across a garden of mint leaves.

''What the -''

'' _You!_ '' He hissed, as his grip got tighter and he scowled down at her. ''You were supposed to hear it!''

''Now now, Draco, loosen the grip; the lady's poor circulatory system has nothing to do with this,''

''Shut up Theo!'' The blonde answered angrily. His friend shrugged lightly, sending Ron (who had tried choking Draco, but had been interjected by Theo before he'd been able to) a look that said _'At least I tried'_ . Despite his growl, Draco loosened the grasp on the witch's hands and stepped back lightly. His furious expression didn't waver.

Hermione's buzzing head cleared out in a moment of unexpected -but greatly welcome- clarity. The wizard had dared to jerk her up to her feet by force, hurting her wrists along the way, and to yell at her angrily, accusing her of something she didn't even know about. Since when did he act so carelessly around her? Since when did he hold so little reluctance to disrespect her?

She wasn't one to be stepped on.

''You don't dare do that again.'' She said, her eyes squinting threateningly and her chin coming up in a defiant stance. ''I don't care what poor, worthless excuse you make up to justify your unprecedented actions. You don't _ever_ manhandle me again. Have I made myself clear?''

Draco didn't bulge. He was glaring down at her so strongly that Hermione thought he might be setting _her_ on fire.

''I said, have I made myself clear!?''

''Crystal.''

''Good'' She mumbled, a certain satisfaction setting in as she massaged her wrists lightly. She hadn't known his slim arms held such strength.

Still glaring at her, Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. Ron and Theo exchanged a look, as they watched the scene from afar. Ron's smug smile spoke of the pride he felt upon Hermione's actions. Theo's lifted brows showed just how impressed he'd been at her bossy, unwavering tone.

''You should have -''

Draco's angry words were interrupted by Hermione lifting a hand in front of his face, as if silencing him with a single gesture. Appalled, Draco fell silent for a second. Before the witch'd had time to relish in her newfound authority, the man in front of her let out an angry growl and pushed her hand aside with his own, upon which Hermione let out a surprised yelp.

'' _You_ don't silence _me_!''

Hermione felt her blood rush to her face, an angry blush reddening her skin. She huffed, annoyed, and crossed her arms over her chest.

''Fine! You want to talk!? Then we'll talk!''

In less than a second, she'd stormed towards the doorway and was making her way to one of the other drawing rooms across the hall. She could feel Draco's presence heavy behind her; angrily stomping on the floor, as she heard him mutter words along the lines of ' _house tour_ ', ' _house elf_ ' and a series of appalling curses. Her heart was hammering furiously against her ribcage, and it couldn't possibly have been because of his strong minty scent, or the towering shadow of his slender frame over her own. She could certainly feel her skin prickling, buzzing with erratic energy waves at his proximity. But, it couldn't be because of his closeness as such... could it? It couldn't have anything to do with his deep breaths and his strong presence... right?

Once she'd walked into the empty room, a wave of nervous shivers washed over her. Hermione knew their previous encounters hadn't been exactly fruitful, or even civil, for that matter. She took a deep breath and gathered every gram of patience in her body, plucked up her vibrating courage and loud defiance, and turned to look at his stormy expression and his angry eyes, hidden beneath the shade of a heavy scowl.

''So.'' She snapped bluntly. ''Come on! Let out whatever absurd accusation you have ready to throw at me.''

Draco took a sharp breath. The witch constantly tested his scarce patience, and he didn't even know why he bothered to search deep within his himself to retrieve the remains of it, entangled somewhere amidst his short fuse.

''I tried to send you a warning! I spent a wasted amount of my valuable time trying to communicate to you, and you didn't even notice!''

''Of course I didn't notice! I'm bonded to you but I'm not telepathic, Malfoy!''

''Spare me your weak excuses! You didn't even _try_ to get the message!''

''What message!? I've never done this before! I don't know how it's supposed to feel! Do _you_ even know!?''

Draco huffed at her accusatory question, and clenched his fists strongly. Oh, how he would love to snap the swotty woman's neck in those moments, when her nostrils flared angrily and she lifted her index finger in a scolding gesture. She drove him completely out of his mind.

''What, so you didn't have a stupid book to crawl onto this time? Are you bloody useful for _anything?_ ''

''That's hardly fair! Did you even research how it was done? Or did you just hope that you'd say a silly prayer and somehow it would reach me!? You're being absurd!''

'' _You're_ absurd! I tried to communicate, you and your useless self weren't able to understand!''

''Focusing on your stupid inner thoughts and hoping that they'll reach me isn't communicating, Malfoy! It's wishful thinking!''

''This is your fault for being the lacking party! You're just so highly overestimated! You _useless_ little mu-''

''DON'T YOU DARE!''

Something inside of Hermione snapped, as she dropped her lifted finger and wrapped her dainty hand around her wand, stepping back lightly. For some reason, his scornful comments weren't slipping past his mouth and vanishing in the air around her, as they usually did; but they went straight for her like a smack in her flushed cheeks. Why was his sully voice suddenly so sharp that it'd hit and pierced its target, when normally she would avoid it with the ease of a trained dodger? Why did his accusations sting in that way?

''Don't you dare say this is my fault, you self-centered, spineless twat!''

Draco sneered spitefully, as a burning sensation began to char his lungs, making the air he took in burn the life out of his body. The disgusted mock pulling at the corners of her mouth somehow made his unflinching stance waver, and he started to feel uneasy. Why was her wrathful glare sending frenzied shivers up his spine? He was angry, alright, but he didn't care about her own ire; he couldn't give a damn about how deep his words could reach her. In fact, those had been his motives, hadn't they? To reach into her and hurt her. Why were his own insults affecting himself?

The messy tangle of uncertain sensations tugging at his chest was making him even more angry than he already was. He could feel his hands shaking with fury, and he had no outlet other than lashing out on the small witch in front of him.

''You're a pathetic excuse for a witch. You're worth nothing, you lift your wand to me as if you could ever hurt me, as if that magic belonged to you, but I know the truth! And everybody does, too!'' He spat, bile ascending from his scrunched stomach. He felt so sick, so disgusted with her and with himself. What on earth was happening to him?

''Well you're just a sad, blood purist tosser with unresolved daddy issues and you don't deserve even a milligram of the effort which we're putting into saving your mother!''

''DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY PARENTS''

''THEN DON'T _YOU_ TALK ABOUT _MINE!_ ''

As the murderous yells abandoned her lips, a deafening silence took over every hidden corner of the room. The ambience was charged with erratic electricity, surging through their surroundings and making the hairs on the back of Hermione's head stand up. His poisonous words were pushing their way into her airway, as she inhaled shaky whiffs of dense air into her lungs. It burnt so bad, it was so unbearably painful. She wondered if his ragged breathing was causing him a similar pain. She hoped so; she hoped his insides were charring with fury and soreness as her were; she hoped his head was buzzing and his heart pounding and that he got no relief from his hazardous words.

''Go back to your disgusting conclave of useless dimwits, and tell them how I warned you of the death of that woman whom you weren't capable enough to save.''

Hermione's vision blurred. His words stung in a way nothing never had. She lost focus of his sullen, stormy eyes; the focus which she'd worked so strongly on maintaining throughout the entire exchange.

 _There you go, Granger. That's it. Loathe me like I loathe you; drown in your own dirty tears the way I'm drowning in your inescapable scent..._

...And her shaky breaths, and her unwavering stance. He knew he was lost, and the only way he could feel better about it was making her as lost as he was, in that thunderous sea of incomprehensible emotions and dangerous sparks which where erupting from their unmoving eye contact. Could she see them, too?

''You're a heartless prat; a spoiled idiot who'll never know true love, or loyalty, or hope. I feel so sorry for you.''

Hermione's unforgiving words were like a slap in Draco's face.

''Don't you even think about wasting your filthy breath on worthless pity!'' He barked loudly. It was so loud, that for a minute, Hermione thought the walls had shook around her.

Suddenly, her ragged breathing was not enough for her to function. She needed air, she was suffocating in his venomous snaps and his hurtful accusations. She straightened her shoulders and stiffened, dropping the hand in which her wand had remained clasped tightly. The weight on her shoulders was pushing her down like a heavy anvil, and she couldn't bear it any longer. Since when could arguments hurt so badly?

And the fact that he was disappointing her with such appalling ease... But, what exactly had she been expecting? How much did she believe in his conversion, that she could think he'd just transform into a decent person? Was her faith so blind?

No, Hermione knew herself. She didn't _just_ believe. She'd seen something worthwhile in him, like she had in so many things before. And she'd always been right. Draco was in denial, he was hopeless, and scared, and his inability to accept the dreadful circumstances he was immersed in did nothing for him; they just made him wallow in depths of misery, and wrath, and despise.

He'd insulted her in every possible way, and accused her of something which he well enough knew she'd had nothing to do with. He couldn't get away with doing that, with knowing that it stung her so harshly, to hear the words come out of his mouth and smack her breath out of her, and say them anyway.

Hermione looked down at her hands, in which the mark of her own nails carved on her palm was visible. She didn't bulge, as thoughts raced wildly around her head. What should she do? He'd hurt her so effortlessly, and the memory of his insults was still burning restlessly at her chest.

 _What should I do?_

And then she looked back up, and her eyes met his exhausted glare. This situation was slowly draining the life out of him, too. She could just tell, from the uneven rises of his chest and the thin, reddish rim which delineated his icy gaze.

He was alone, and his mother's fate laid in his enemies' hands, and he'd been forced by them to relive the mistakes of his past which had ruined his life. She cursed at her inability to remain detached. She wished she could pity him, but she didn't. Pity did no justice to what she felt towards him at that moment.

''I don't pity you.''

Draco didn't know how he'd noticed, but he had. Her posture had changed; her shoulders weren't as stiff, and the tightness around her lips had softened. He didn't answer; he feared his words would come out as tangled and meddled as his thoughts were.

''I'm trying, Malfoy.''

He still said nothing. His arms were shaking now, much more visibly than before, and he couldn't take his eyes of her as he wondered why on Merlin she would make the effort to calm down. Why was she breathing in and out slowly, to try and calm herself? Why was she attempting to wind down her spiked nerves? To soothe her boiling anger? He didn't understand why she would make the least effort to turn the conversation around.

For some reason, he found his own breathing slow down. His pulse started decelerating, and his heart no longer hammered like a crazy drumset inside his chest.

Draco suddenly felt so... peaceful.

He opened his eyes, which he couldn't even recall closing, and set them on the witch in front of him. She stood there, the embodiment of determination and patience, her big, round eyes steadily glued to his own hesitant ones.

''You felt it.'' She mumbled, as she scanned over him with a slow, thoughtful gaze. A glint of something dangerous was shining in her eyes, and Draco didn't know if he felt like launching forward and reading into the deepest levels of her complex mind, or running away and hiding out the furthest away possible from her intoxicating presence.

''What the hell are you talking about, Granger.''

''I've spent the last five minutes trying to calm down and gather myself and you have unconsciously followed suit.''

''Bollocks.''

But it was too late; her mind was already working at vertiginous speed and her hands were unconsciously darting up to cover her mouth in a pensive reflex which made Draco's insides feel jittery.

''You!'' She suddenly exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger into his face. Had she been that close to him before? ''You made me so... so angry!''

He scoffed. ''It's not my problem if you have a short fuse.''

''Oh, but it is! Because it was your own anger that made me angry!''

''What the hell are you talking about?''

''Ugh!'' She let out a frustrated growl ''I was _raging_ and it hurt really bad and I didn't know _why_ but now... Now I know it was your anger that was eating me up''

''That's nonsense, you got angry on your own. Don't blame this on me just because you couldn't handle your own temper!''

''But that's exactly it! I _couldn't_ handle it because every time you got mad, I would feel it, and then it would make me angrier, and that would make _you_ angrier, and so on!''

Draco didn't dare admit it, but the witch had a point. That's probably why he'd felt offended by his own words, and why he'd felt like his lungs were burning up brutally inside his chest.

That painful wrath which they'd both felt, had been product of their meshed fury. And that soothing wave which had washed over him just minutes before, had been Hermione and her saintly patience. She'd transferred her own efforts to calm herself down all the way to him and back. She'd extinguished his anger, and then she'd brought him miraculous peace, and she'd made him feel like he was himself again.

He utterly abhorred the fact that she could do this to him. He felt vulnerable, and naked, at her mercy once more. A jolt of irritation travelled through him, but he tried his best to hide it from the witch.

''There has to be a way to communicate without hexing the life out of each other...'' Hermione mumbled. She was still talking to herself. Draco preferred it that way, for the time being. He didn't feel much in control; not enough to put two words together and answer her. ''Or... maybe this was the trigger...''

Draco's eyebrow shot up, and he stared at her quizzically. Hermione felt his intense scrutiny, and started fidgeting nervously with her sleeves. She'd completely forgot she was still in her nightclothes, and, for some unknown reason, she was suddenly very aware of the fact.

''What, you think this argument.. activated the bond?''

''Well, it would make sense for closeness to strengthen the connection, and it's not like we spent much time together after the bonding ceremony. No time at all, actually.'' She nibbled at her bottom lip thoughtfully. Something dangerous was coming up inside her brain, reflecting on her face, and Draco feared for his sanity if he kept staring at her soft features the way he so unconsciously was. ''What if...?''

Draco didn't have time to react before Hermione had taken two bold steps forwards and had entwined both her dainty hands with his. The contact was overwhelming. He sudenly felt very dizzy, ad he didn't like it.

''What the-?''

He couldn't finish his sentence. Nobody stopped him; she hadn't stopped him. But somehow, his words remained crammed up in his throat and he couldn't get them out. And maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the tickle of her curls on his arm, which he was suddenly so aware of. Or perhaps, it had to do with her apologetical burnished eyes which looked up to him as she slid her fingers between his...

It took a long minute for Draco to snap out of his trance.

''What the hell, Granger?'' He barked, jerking his hands away from her touch ad quickly as he could. ''Are you really that daft? You thought you'd see sparks fly and fireworks go off in the air?''

''I know you felt it.''

''I felt nothing.''

''Malfoy, don't play dumb. You felt it just as much as I did.''

Draco didn't know how to make the witch shut up, so it was a good thing that they were interrupted in that very moment.

Harry appeared at the door just seconds after Hermione had said the last word.

He look tired and worn out, and he was completely out of breath, and as he opened the door and let his gaze fall upon Hermione's face, his eyebrows knitted close in an apologetical frown. Hermione's heart sank, as she skimmed every corner of his haunted expression.

She walked over to the door and let her face rest on his cloaked chest, knowing that the fondest embrace couldn't even bring a hint of comfort under those circumstances.

''Granger, we're not done here.''

Draco's voice was spiky and tense behind her; she could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth. However, it wasn't Hermione who answered. It was Harry.

''No, you most certainly aren't.''

Hermione looked up from his chest, confusion decorating her face. ''What? What do you mean, Harry?''

''This is the last time we're not ready for a strike. You're going to start working on this bond and training like your life depends on it, which, unfortunately, it does. From today on, you'll be training everyday until you can understand every minimal detail of information the other party ever sends along. We're doing this the right way, and nothing's going to stop us''

Hermione thought she'd heard every curse in the English language, until Draco opened his mouth and spoke.

* * *

 _Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry_

 _I can't believe how **long** it took me to upload this (almost two weeks, in case you didn't keep count). I can do nothing but beg for your forgiveness! I've been so busy that I didn't even have time to have breakfast this whole week; can you believe it? It sounds awful ,but really it's the dangerous downside to being a med student..._

 _I know this is a bit of a filler chapter; but the next won't be, I promise you that! Trouble is coming, guys, and I hope you're all there to witness it with me._

 _I'd like to thank you for your support, your reviews, your 60+ follows... I feel so honoured! I hope the next chapters only encourage more of you to join this shaping family; I can't wait to read your **reviews and opinions!**_

 _Anyways, thank you so much for everything and hopefully I will see you very soon._

 _Much love_

 _ **Horned Serpent**_


	13. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Every recognisable character, scenery or canon storyline fully belongs to JKRowling and co.

 _ **IMPORTANT A/N**_ _: This chapter should probably be rated M because of some explicit language and swearing. Nothing too important. Just a few curses here and there._

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

''And you're certain of this?''

''Yes, Greengrass. Believe it or not, wasting people's time with misleading information is not my thing.''

''Surprisingly enough.'' The witch cleared her throat and examined her immaculate manicure nonchalantly. ''So, Weasley and the Mudblood are Aurors now, huh? Very interesting...''

Draco rolled his eyes, cringing unnoticeably at the sound of the tabooed word, and quietly rose from his chair.

''Are we done here? I'm a busy, successful wizard and these pointless little gatherings are starting to dismantle my very tight agenda.''

''Almost didn't hear you over the sound of your exorbitant self-praise.''

''The I suggest a bloody hearing checkup.'' He muttered.

A small giggle erupted from the witch's mouth. Her laugh was cold, like the grey, eroded stone which covered the dull walls around them. It made Draco's insides jump and twist in tight knots.

''Just one last thing before you go.''

Her sudden solemn demeanour caught Draco's attention, and his back straightened in response. Every word the witch spoke made him fear he'd lose his grip on the flawless façade he'd worked so hard on putting together. He didn't let his eyes leave her face, as he slipped his dark cloak over his shoulders and clasped it over his chest.

''Well? I don't have all day.''

''Hostility is such a weak defensive mechanism, Draco.''

He snorted, and his foot starting tapping on the floor impatiently. He had no desire to spend more time than it was necessary at the lugubrious settings of their weekly meetings, and the blonde woman standing in front of him was making him count the seconds until he was out of there.

Since the last attack, the Order had called him in twice as much as they previously had. Every meeting was exactly like the one before; Draco would take an illegal Portkey set in an empty, narrow alleyway in a far off neighbourhood in Wizarding London; he would sit in a humid room, built in stone, in a completely unknown location, and stare at an Order member's face for a good couple of hours while they asked him pointless, uninteresting questions.

That was, until that very day. This time, it hadn't been an unknown wizard, or a vaguely familiar face which had met him across the unkempt cedar table. It'd been Daphne. Draco'd remembered her crazed smile, as she'd watched him perform his initiation, weeks back. He'd heard her crackled laugh, echoing on the paint-covered walls in the muggle couple's home and making the hairs on the back of his head stand up as he'd taken a seat in front of her. He wondered what had changed, that had driven the Order to assign the Slytherin witch to his meeting.

Maybe they thought she'd manage to get more out of him than the others.

 _Yeah, right._

''Is that all?''

''Always so eager to leave us, Draco. Maybe you should cherish these little encounters a little more, while you can. If you don't, somebody might think you've no real wish to be here.''

Draco gulped. A slight sense of panic crept into him and he got the impelling need to shift his weight and rub his damp palms on the fabric of his cloak. He knew what was on the line, and he also knew well that the smallest of gestures could give him away, specially under the trained scrutiny of a Slytherin witch. She missed nothing; so he did nothing. He stood, just as he was before, and forcefully raised an eyebrow, faking a flawless quizzical expression.

''You take up my valuable time to throw aimless accusations at me?''

''Now now, don't get al fussed up, Draco. It was only an observation.''

''Sublime; are we done now?''

''Almost.'' She said, absently twisting a strand of straight, strawberry blond hair in her fingers. ''You've noticed that we've grown, haven't you? You shouldn't have, since we don't disclose that type of information to most of our new members. However, I know you, Draco, I know you're a very smart wizard, and I know that you've realised how big this is turning out to be.''

Were she not playing with such dangerous fire, her voice would have been something other than sultry and suffocating sand paper to Draco's sensitive ears. It could have been velvety, even soothing. But it was far from that, as she took small steps around the table and stared fixedly at the stiffly standing wizard.

''Something big is coming Draco, something truly remarkable is soon to be carried out; and, guess what?'' A light smirk stretched her lips, and Draco feared the worst. ''You and Theo, for the first time, will be key to its success!''

 _Yay_

'' - We'll give you proper instructions next week, Wednesday night, as always. But for now, you should start polishing that wand of yours and focusing on giving it your A game. The feats of the Order are always glorious, but seldom easy.''

 _Bri - fucking - lliant_

'' - You may go now, but remain vigilant; you may be called in at any given moment, and you should be ready to perform whatever mission we assign, under whichever orders we give out.''

''Terrific.'' He spat, his usual harsh, sarcasm-soaked tone unaltered.

''You can go now.''

Draco wasted no time; he picked up his black leather case from the dusty floor and prepared for Apparition. He was starting to feel the familiar, strong pull at his belly button; the nauseating twists and turns of the bending walls around him, and the asphyxiating tightening of his lungs shutting down inside his ribcage. Just when he was about to vanish into thin air, Daphne's voice echoed inside his ears like uneven, growing and decreasing waves of meddled sounds and noises.

Unfortunately, he understood it. He understood it, and the sound of her dangerous, playful tone followed him all the way to the front steps of Grimmauld Place 12.

 _''Oh, by the way; you have to tell me all about that interesting new scar you've got there.''_

* * *

Hermione was peacefully snuggled against the living room windowseat at Grimmauld Place, discarded sheets of drafted notes laying around her, and worn out parchment towered in untidy stacks, levitating around her head and hovering above her body.

She'd long given up the system of having everything haphazardly scattered over the floor around her; she always ended up wasting more time on trying to find what she was looking for manually and trying to keep everything in its messily assigned place, than in actually working on what she intended to.

Which is why she was now absently reaching up to the closest floating stack of papers, and grabbing a few sheets. She slipped them out of their bundle easily, without even having the need to tear her eyes away from the book sitting on her lap.

The suddenness with which somebody Apparated near the wards of Grimmauld Place, setting the sensitive security system off, made Hermione jerk in surprise.

Her abrupt jolt sent every single floating stack of paper flying across the room. The levitating bundles, now completely dismantled, fell from their swaying levitation and scattered all over the wooden floor around her.

''Damn it!'' She muttered, detangling her crossed legs and trying to gain back the balance which the sudden alarm had made her lose.

Hermione got up reluctantly, (not enjoying the idea of leaving her documents so carelessly dispersed about the room), and made her way towards the door. She hadn't even bothered to slip a pair of shoes on, since she'd known Harry would be spending the day with Ginny, and Ron had some business to attend to at the shop and wouldn't be back until well into the evening.

Ever since moving out of her parent's house and setting off to live on her own, Hermione had kept the habit of making sure wherever she was staying was perfectly isolated and protected. It was a nervous habit indeed; paranoid, even, but it had been born during the war, and like many others, and she had never been able to drop it. The rare occasions in which she'd be alone, she would always put up every single ward she knew of; every password, barrier or shield she could think of, never forgetting to double-check their efficiency before allowing herself to sit back and relax. Harry and Ron often tried to talk her out of putting so much energy into protecting herself from hazard which didn't exist anymore; but Hermione had never been able to stop.

Sometimes, she thought she never would be.

Each of them had their own, personal little scars carved into their bodies, following them around everywhere they went. This was one of hers.

So Hermione wasn't surprised when the a second barrier she'd set was trespassed, and the alarm was set off once more. She picked up her pace as she head towards the door, casting a nonverbal 'Revelio' to find out who stood behind it, although, from the way the hairs at the back of her head where standing and the nervous jitter which was setting into her legs, she thought she could take a pretty good guess.

Much to her chagrin, she'd been right: the person who was currently battling against her strong wards, was no one but a certain strikingly blond wizard. She watched him for a few minutes, rejoicing in his impatient, irritated and rushed movements as he fought the protective shields. His face was slightly red from the effort, and his arms gracefully swung from side to side in front of him, almost making him look like the director of an orchestra when the notes rose into the intense roar of a fortissimo.

She hated to admit it, but he made it seem effortless.

Shaking her head, Hermione reminded herself not to dwell on Draco's grace again. It was a deceiving mechanisms which only masked the truth about him; his barking mouth and unbelievably short temper.

''Potter, Granger! For Circe's sake! Make these bloody wards stay the fuck down!''

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed for the door handle. With a light flick of her wand, the wards were put down, and the door flung open.

''Way to keep a low profile, Malfoy.''

''Took you bloody long enough!''

''It's not my fault you can't handle a couple of solid wards.''

Draco scoffed, pushing his way past the door and slipping the heavy cloak off his shoulders. As always, his clothes were spotless. Tailored, black suit robes and a painfully white shirt, creaseless and sized to exaggerated perfection.

''You'd think we were back at the bloody Battle of Hogwarts with those barriers you set up, Granger.''

Hermione shifted on the spot uncomfortably, nibbling at her lower lip absentmindedly. Draco's words had left a lingering silence behind them, which she found to be even more suffocating than the memories they had stirred up. A little moved by the sudden reference to the past, she couldn't help the motto which slipped past her lips and jumped out in the open.

''Constant vigilance.''

''Really? _That's_ who you're quoting? Loopy-eye- _loco_? Bloody Gryffindors...''

Hermione ignored him, and started making her way towards the drawing room. For some reason, the towering walls which closed the narrow corridor around her felt even more claustrophobic when the wizard was walking behind her. She didn't know how she was able to notice, because she felt like she was marching so straight and stiff that she couldn't even spot him out of the corner of her eyes.

Somehow, his presence always managed to unnerve her.

''How did you know it was me, anyway?''

Draco snorted, as he looked straight at the swinging ponytail which hung from the back of her head. Her long curls bounced as she took each step, and they sheered under the dim lights of a few extinguishing bulbs.

He looked away quickly, scolding himself, and taking a mental note never to take such effortless notice of her appearance again.

''Please; as if either of the members of the Dimwit-Duo could ever put up a ward like that.''

Hermione slowed her pace down lightly, and stole a peek at his face. He was still walking behind her, a few feet away, and it looked as if he was letting his eyes fall everywhere but on her. She wondered if he'd realised how close to a compliment that had sounded. He probably hadn't.

''Right.'' As she walked back into the room she'd spent the afternoon in, Hermione felt a deep blush creeping up to her face and neck upon the chaotic mess she'd left behind her.

Draco looked so out of place, his spotless persona standing across a mess of endless puddles of draft papers and shredded parchment, carelessly spread out on the floor. Her various tea mugs were disseminated around the room, evidence of her nervous moving around.

''Why does it always look like you've blown up whatever you've laid a finger on, Granger?

''Hey! I was just doing some work and then you set off the wards and - ''

''I didn't ask for your life story.''

'' - and your clumsy attempts at dismantling them startled me.''

''My attempts were hardly clumsy!''

Hermione snorted. ''If you say so.''

Draco felt his eyebrow twitch in contained irritation. ''At least I don't need to hide behind hundreds of protective layers in order to feel safe in my own house.''

''It's none of your business how we manage security here.'' She answered, lifting her face in defiance and bothered by his words. At some point during the conversation, she realised she'd been bothered because he'd been right.

''It is if I'm going to have to battle with your monster wards every time I come here!''

''Just warn me before you come and I'll take them down.''

''That's a great idea, Granger, let's communicate through an uncertain mean in order for me to be able to come here and train how to communicate with you through another uncertain mean.''

Sarcasm dripped his words, and Hermione battled her inner impulse to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. ''Fine, then we'll agree on a fixed time for you to come here at.''

Draco huffed, and took two long strides towards the sofa, on which he casually sprawled himself.

''I'm a busy man, Granger. I- ''

''I didn't ask for your life story.''

Draco wasn't able to stop himself as a low chuckle escaped his thin lips. Hermione didn't think she'd even been so surprised by the sound of someone's laugh. It had sounded more like a quiet rumble of shaky whiffs of air, and it had ended as quick as it'd started. The blonde man realised how her alarmed gaze had set on his face, and how intently she was eyeing him, a light squint on her burnished eyes and an uncertain curve on her rosy lips.

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

''What the hell are you staring at?''

Once again, Hermione's face lit up in red-tinted embarrassment, and she quickly drew her eyes away from his mocking expression.

''Nothing. Um... You're here to practice, I assume?''

The blond wizard rolled his eyes and let his arm draw up to rest on the back of the sofa.

''Ten points from Gryffindork for stating the obvious.''

Hermione huffed lightly, crossing her arms over her chest. Draco eyed her thoughtfully then, leaning forward for his chin to rest on the palm of his hand. ''Fifty points more.''

''What was that for?''

''Your awful hair, obviously.''

''That's rich, coming from someone who looks like he's dangerously fond of bleach.''

''My hair still looks better than yours ever has.''

''Are you sure you're here to do actual work?''

''Pissing you off is actual work.''

Hermione huffed once more, and decided to keep her hands busy in order to avoid grabbing at the blonde man's neck. She knelt down and started pushing her scattered papers together into little bundles. ''You are a joy.''

''So everyone says. Can't really blame them.''

 _How many times can someone exaggeratedly roll their eyes before they popped out of one's skull?_ Hermione thought as she bit her tongue.

''You know what? Let's just get started.''

The witch made sure to keep quiet, as she cautiously lifted her head and watched him in his sitting position. Just as she expected, his usual icy mask was on full display. After a few moments, when her hazel gaze had been intently fixed on his long enough for her eyes to itch, she noticed how his rigid stance lightly faltered. His unflinching demeanour wavered, and Hermione feared he might have discovered her intense scrutiny, and that he now had something to call her out for.

Suddenly, his teeth clenched. Simultaneously, Hermione's stomach jumped with a crescent feeling of discomfort.

''Stop that.''

''Oh! I'm sorry... I wasn't - I didn't mean to pry.'' She stammered, a dark blush reaching her cheeks.

"You're doing a bloody great job regardless."

"Don't be such a prat, Malfoy. I already apologised."

"If you hadn't been so nosey in the first place you wouldn't need to."

"I was only looking at you!"

"And although I am a sight for sore eyes, I would request you refrained from ogling me so openly in the future."

"Really, Malfoy?"

"Really, Granger."

Hermione let out a frustrated groan and with a loud thud she dropped her books on the low coffee table. She deeply wished the connection already worked, so that she could concentrate enough to be able to send daggers flying straight into Draco's arrogant prideful heart. Unfortunately, it really didn't seem like the bond was willing to answer to her anytime soon, so she'd have to bear with it.

Draco must have noticed her slight attitude change, because he sheepishly got to his feet and didn't say another word. That didn't mean that his tongue wasn't red with a burning need to lash out on the brunette; in fact, it was the only thing he thought would help in that moment when he felt like an awkward compound of mismatched sensations.

He was starting to get used to the feeling, since it's what he got every time the witch was around.

''Focus on something which makes you experience strong emotions.''

His eyes flickered up to her face and he raised an eyebrow quizzically.

''Your - ''

''No; don't. I don't want to know. Just focus and keep it to yourself.''

Draco muttered something which Hermione didn't catch, and then took a deep breath. A certain feeling of exposure was dawning on him as he tried to focus on the feelings which were usually bottled up so deeply within him, that he didn't even know where to start looking for them.

Finally, he decided to go for something straightforward and simple: the plain, red fury which he held for the Order. Thinking about it made his flesh crawl.

Draco vaguely noticed how his own breathing started quickening, or how his hands balled into fists. Hermione watched, ever so cautiously, how his nostrils flared and how his sharp features progressively hardened. He was so difficult to read, and at the same time, Hermione figured not many people had actually bothered to do so throughout his life, or else they would've noticed the subtle changes in his usual blank expression. His colourless skin warming up slowly in small, red patches over his face; the imperceptible twitch of his upper lip, the deep furrow of her pale brows...

Suddenly, she started to feel a burning sensation in the back of her throat. It was growing too quickly, and she was getting overwhelmed by the second. She tried to breathe out slowly and let it cool; she shifted on her spot and shut her eyes tightly as she focused on the feeling of pure, blazing fire churring at her insides. How could someone's anger physically hurt so badly? How could Draco live with a Chinese Fireball living in the pit of his stomach?

''What now?'' He demanded; traces of his light shaking where filling his words.

Hermione took a second to make sure her own voice wouldn't waver as his had. ''Try to focus on something which gives you peace.''

Draco huffed spitefully. He knew the witch to be naive, but was she so ingenuous truly?

''Granger, it doesn't work like that.''

The witch opened her eyes slowly, and found how theme immediately clashing with his. He still looked angry, although a light mocking expression was now pulling at his upper lip. His eyes remained humourless.

''Alright then, you tell me. How does it work?'' As Draco opened his mouth to speak, she corrected herself. ''Better yet, instead of telling me, just do whatever works for you.''

''There's noth-''

''Fine then! Just think of something that's ever given you peace and that's unrelated to whatever made you angry!''

''Will you stop bloody interrupting me!''

''Will you bloody cooperate for once in your life!''

They stood in front of each other and neither blinked for a minute, ragged breaths escaping both their lips, until Hermione spoke.

Her voice was soft and cautious; she needed for him to realise that her goal wasn't to hurt him, or ridicule him. She just wanted to work with him.

''Fine; I promise I'll try to stop interrupting you. You just try doing what I told you to.''

Apparently, it worked; because he took a short, sharp breath and removed his glare from her face.

Draco closed his eyes once more. He didn't think he would ever let his guard down in front of anybody like he was doing in front of her. In fact, he thought he shouldn't even be doing so with her. But for some reason, he did.

He tried really hard to think of the last time he'd felt true peace. It could've easily been seven years since he'd last felt comfortable, or safe. He'd spent his last two years of school fearing for his and his family's life. Then he'd taken part in a war where he hadn't even known which side he was fighting for. He'd been like an iceberg; constantly floating between two shores of glaciers, not even knowing which one he'd truly broken off from, and never being able to control the vast dimensions of the battle which laid within him, under his small, cold surface.

There had been a war taking place around him, and yet it'd seemed like the hardest battle had been fought inside himself. He'd constantly had to fight fear, pride, anger, hatred... All towards both Dark, and Light. That had certainly not been a time of peace.

As Draco fought his way through his emotions, Hermione started to feel uneasy. Her insides weren't burning anymore, but they were tightening. Her lungs where shutting down inside her ribcage; her stomach was twisting over itself in painful knots. She was starting to think she'd suffocate before Draco was done. He must have suffered the worst kind of anxiety in the past, for her own body to respond in such a way to the mere memory of it.

Her breathing suddenly started to halt, and her hand darted up to her chest. A flash of light blinded her, and in a moment of doubtful reality, Hermione saw his face inside his mind. She saw him standing; but he wasn't in Harry's living room anymore. The image was so blurry and quick, the witch thought it'd just been the real him, and that what she'd seen had been a product of her imagination and quick blinking.

But it hadn't. There'd been stone walls around him, and he'd been standing in front of a structure built from metal oxidised bars, hanging from the ceiling. His eyes had been the only clear thing she'd seen; flashing in silver and stormy grey as they stared up at a small, yellow feather, clasped between his index and thumb.

Draco was utterly oblivious to her struggles, as he rummaged through his head. _Peace, peace, peace_... Nothing; he was finding nothing that could even resemble the feeling of calmness which Hermione had asked of him. After a few moments, he gave up and sheepishly opened his eyes.

The image he stumbled upon shocked him.

''Granger!? What the hell!?''

The witch was kneeling on the floor in font of him. An expression of pure pain haunted her face as she clutched the front of her shirt tightly in her right hand, as if she were clutching at her failing heart. The other, she struggled to use for support as she stumbled onto all fours.

Without thinking, Draco rushed to where she was. He grabbed her by her arms and yanked her up to a wobbly standing position, which she struggled to maintain.

''What's the fuck is going on!?'' He demanded, his strong hands shaking her body lightly. He was starting to feel uneasy, and it was beginning to show in his wavering voice. He didn't recall having zoned out long enough for her to be able to have a near-death experience. She couldn't answer; she couldn't even look at him, and Draco was starting to panic. ''Granger! Granger speak to me! What the hell is wrong?''

Her breathing was so shallow and quick. It even hurt to hear it. The wizard looked everywhere for the source of her pain. Maybe a non-verbal spell? He cursed under his breath, as he haphazardly cast revealing incantations out and about the room, without result, still holding the witch with his other free arm.

''P-P-Peace...''

''What!?'' He hadn't heard what she'd struggled to mumble over the sound of his own panicked frenzy. ''What did you say, Granger!?''

''P-Pea-Peace...''

Peace. He had to look for the goddamned peace. He was the one causing her asphyxiation. Without even being aware; without knowing; without meaning to...

He shook the thoughts out of his head. He'd have time to think about that later. Now, he put everything he knew about Occlumency and Legilimency into practice, as he searched for the barest hint of relief inside of him.

 _Come on, come on; there must be something..._

And then he stumbled across a recent memory. A very recent one, in fact. He formed the picture in his mind, and made his way across it gingerly. It was him, standing in a room two doors down in that same house, just days before, in the same position in which he'd been as he'd watched Hermione's features soften into a peaceful expression. Her frown had disappeared, her mouth had released from its tight grip, her chest had risen and fallen slowly and steadily... She had managed to calm him back then. Ironically, she had forced peace on him; she had made him close his eyes and fall back into a state of quiet serenity, right after she had almost manhandled the most boisterous response out from inside of him.

She had put all her energy into calming herself down, and she had unwillingly dragged him along.

And now he would do the same with her. Paradoxically, using as a source the bare serenity she herself had caused to rise in him.

As he forced the mental picture to remain loud and clear in his head, he looked down at the witch struggling to breathe in his hold. He couldn't remember telling his muscles to pull his hand up to her dismantled expression. Mesmerised, he brushed his hand gingerly against her deep frown. Unconsciously, as if some external force had taken hold of his actions, he outlined her factions with the tip of his fingers, hoping that by touching her, her face would form back into what it was in his restless memory.

The feeling of her soft, sun-kissed skin under his touch brought him back to reality; and he blamed the faustian sight of her half open lips; the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his own. Above all, he cursed the faint glow in her burnished-coloured gaze, as she stared up at him through half lidded, dazed eyes.

He'd found true calm, and now she was fine.

 _She's fine._

''I'm sorry.'' Hermione spoke, her ragged voice echoing around them and startling the entranced man.

The wizard looked down at her once more, but only for a fraction of a second. He didn't allow himself to stare any further. He was perplexed. What was with the woman and her absurd apologies? Why did she say sorry exactly when she didn't have to, but never when she should?

''Granger, are you stupid?''

She frowned lightly at his response, and he almost wished he'd said nothing, so her face would have remained in its previous peaceful haze. Almost.

He started to feel movement in his arms, and realised the girl was pushing away lightly from him. He didn't know how he hadn't thought of putting her down earlier. She was so light, he'd barely noticed she'd been there.

 _Yeah, right._

''I'm sorry that you've ever had to feel that.''

Once again, she startled him.

''What?''

''That - what I just felt. That came from inside of you. I don't know why it came up while you were supposed to be looking for peace, but it did. And I'm sorry''

''Granger, don't apologise for what you don't even know about.''

''You really think anyone will ever know more than I do now?''

''Well -'' He didn't have an answer for her, so he huffed, and he resorted to unpleasantness. Just like he always did. ''Clearly even my bloody subconscious doesn't want you near.''

Hermione looked slightly taken aback by his words, and, for some reason, he regretted them. Surprisingly enough, she didn't move.

''I don't know how you get up in the morning with all of that cooped up inside of you.''

Draco fell silent, and just stared at Hermione as she shifted in her spot and awkwardly slid a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. Was the witch's selfless concern and empathy endless?

They were both sitting on the floor in front of each other, as they'd progressively slid down while Draco'd been holding her in her near-to-suffocation.

''The goal of this is not for you to understand me.''

''Yes it is, Malfoy! The goal of this is for us to build a channel between each other. I'm not sure we can do that if you near-kill me every time we practise.''

''I didn't near kill you!''

''No! Your bottled feelings and memories did!''

''Well - wait, what? Memories? What are you talking about, Granger?''

''I...'' Hermione shifted uncomfortably and avoided his eyes. ''I saw something.''

Draco leaned back, flabbergasted. He didn't have time to force the answers out of the witch, because she started speaking.

''I believe it was at Hogwarts... Sixth year, probably? I didn't see much, mainly just your face, but I could tell you had this small yellow feather in your hand and -''

The wizard interrupted her by standing up abruptly. He was shocked to say the least. How had she done it? He'd never heard of memories traveling through bond connection. There wasn't such a thing as showing somebody your memories without using a pensieve; there was no telepathic, legilimant way to transport memories save potions vials or one's wand, and there was no way Hermione knew enough Legilimency to read his mind. What kind of bonding was it, that had given Hermione the ability to see those things?

''That's private.'' He muttered with clenched teeth. Hermione looked up to him from her sitting position, a concerned expression drawing her face.

''I know, I didn't mean to pry. It just... Appeared. I couldn't see it properly because, well, I was suffocating.'' She carefully leant back, maneuvering to get on her feet and talk to the wizard from his same stance.

Predictably, her body demanded rest. Her arms shook as she attempted to lean on them for support, and her chest stung painfully as she tried to straighten her back.

''Stop - Merlin Granger, are you daft? You can't just - ''

Hermione ignored him, and grabbed the nearest piece of furniture -a wobbly chair- to hold onto it as she rose and got to her feet. Draco continued muttering under his breath -his hands slightly outstretched towards the struggling girl-, until Hermione's face was at her usual height, about almost-two-feet below his. She decidedly walked two steps closer to him almost automatically and stopped a short distance from his body.

''You need to let it out.''

''I don't need to do anything you tell me to do.''

''We won't be able to do this if you don't do something about that disastrous emotional mesh.''

''Sod off.''

''No! Stop being a child and let me help!''

''I am being no child! I don't know why you're making the stupid effort of trying to get to me, but you need to get off my damned case!''

''Maybe if you pulled your head out of your own ass you'd realise I'm doing it for _you_!''

Draco closed his mouth -which had been open, ready to snap back at her- and just stared, bewildered. She took his silence as a quiet invitation to speak; or, at least, as him putting no objections to her doing so.

''I'm not asking too much of you. Just to open up a little; or at least to trust me. Otherwise, this task will become an endless cycle of you getting angry for not being able to not get angry, which will make me angry and then we'll both go mad and will accomplish _nothing_.'' Upon her words Draco stuck to sighing. Quickly enough, his usual stoic expression was plastered back on his face. Hermione looked straight into his reluctant eyes, and wished she had the ability to make him question himself. How much of a fool was she? She wondered. ''Doesn't a little relief sound… nice?''

Saying Draco's expression had softened would be an shameless understatement. Everything inside of him was melting into puddles of uncertainty and undesired warmth. It was all her. Her, always wearing her stupid heart on her sleeve. Always proving to the world how much better, purer than others she actually was. To Draco, it was infuriating, and at the same time it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever experienced. He didn't think anybody throughout his life had ever proved caring about his inner world, as much as she had in the span of a second. Perhaps it was part of the bonding; perhaps it was part of her pristine magic. Little did he care now; for she had succeeded. For the first time in the longest time, Draco opened up willingly. And it was to her.

And although this was undetectable to Hermione, whose hopeful eyes clung onto his naked ones, he realised that that moment would mark the start of a tremendously complicated, tumultuous something. His deductions only proved right, when he found himself unconsciously leaning into the witch's face.

He didn't really know what he'd intended to do, but he was now inches from her astounded face, and he could feel her warm breath tickling his skin, and raw anticipation pulling at the pit of his stomach, and his heart racing wildly inside his ribcage… All he could see was her big, curious, hazel eyes; her flushed cheeks, her pink lips, half open by the ghost of a paralysed gasp…

She looked like air. She was transparent, and light, and pure. And the closer he got to her, the more it burnt in his lungs; the more painful it was to take in the cold whiffs of her scent. She smelled like earth, and her eyes were blazing fire.

And that fire was traveling deep within Draco and burning every inch of his weak, mortal body. She was pain, and she was ecstasy.

And all of this, she was irrevocably and unavoidably unaware of.

''Malfoy… what…?'' Hermione's startled voice was close to a whisper. She needed to get a grip, but she just couldn't. She couldn't pull her eyes off of his; she couldn't avoid the touch of his warm, rough hands on her arms, or ignore the faint minty smell of his rapid breaths. The subtle frown which framed his stormy gaze, the strands of pale, blonde hair which hung loosely around his angled features.

They were so, painfully close.

They were sinfully close to merging their shaky breaths.

And then the door slammed open, and their bubble of oblivious trance was burst in less than a short second.

Draco and Hermione jumped apart so quickly, it looked as if they'd been yanked from behind in convenient, opposite directions by an external, brutal force. Hermione's face was bright-red and flustered, and Draco's hands were sweaty as he ran his fingers through his hair.

And the intruder, who'd probably walked in on something which they'd been too caught up on to even properly realise had been about to happen, was none other than Theodore Nott.

There was nothing which could've made Hermione more mortified than she'd already been; nothing except Theo's mocking, arrogant smirk as he analysed the situation, his eyes roaming around the messy room, the startled wizard, the flushed witch…

''What a beautiful day to have chosen to visit Potter!''

''Theo, what are you…?''

''Dearest Granger, I thought I'd seen many flustered, willing witches in my life but that devoted expression you were wearing right there almost made me-''

''THEO!''

''NOTT!''

''Nothing to be ashamed of here!'' Theo stormed into the room, took an absurdly deep breath''Nothing to be ashamed of here!'' Theo stormed into the room, took an absurdly deep breath, and let it out just as ceremoniously, a crooked smile on his lips. ''Do you smell that? Mmmmh, yes! It's the smell of Theo delivering extraordinarily accurate predictions _once_ _again_!''

''Nott, if you don't shut your - ''

''Now now, Draco, don't be unpleasant! One would think you'd be in a jolly great mood after -''

''I swear I'm going to fucking - ''

''Who would've thought? You _do_ listen to what I say after all!''

''You're bloody lucky I don't -''

'' _Silencio_!''

Both wizards turned their necks towards Hermione so violently, they almost felt it crack under their skin. The witch's face was still heavily flushed; red with embarrassment and utter confusion. She had yet to drop her hand, which was pointing her wand straight at both men in front of her.

She was satisfied with the sudden calmness, and it lasted a good five minutes, until she realised Theo and Draco weren't just glaring silent daggers at each other, but actually reacting to each other's gestures and facial expressions. It didn't take Hermione long to realise they were communicating via Legilimency.

''Hey! Both of you! Stop it!''

Draco clenched his teeth together, and hissed loudly. Theo opened his mouth lightly, and his shoulders started shaking with controlled laughter. Hermione was beginning to feel like she was missing an important exchange, and it was uncomfortable for her to watch both wizards argue silently while she was left out of the entire conversation.

Once again, she lifted her wand and cast a silent counterspell to her previous silencing charm.

Theo's low chuckles were the first thing which came back to life in the room. Draco was looking angrier by the minute, and so Hermione decided she'd leave talking about what almost happened for another time.

''Malfoy, we're done for the day. Feel free to leave. Nott, if there's any relevant motive for your being here at this hour, I'll be glad to hear it. If there isn't, then you can get going, as well.''

''Bossy one, you are.'' Theo sneered.

Draco turned to look at her, his grey eyes demanding to have her attention. Hermione wished she hadn't complied; because as soon as she set her eyes on him, a dangerous flash crossed his stoic factions. He was angry, and he was angry at her.

But Hermione didn't have time to spend each second that passed trying to figure out what insignificant occurrence had caused his reproachful look. And so she ignored him, and turned towards the other wizard, who was standing next to him and watching the entire exchange with a smirk.

''Well then?'' She asked him, impatiently.

''Draco, you can stay if you wish to. After all, this does concern both of us.''

Draco grunted, and Hermione pointed towards the sofas, where they took a seat. She was quiet, and fidgety, and she could see Theo's eyes following every nervous movement she unconsciously made.

''I have just returned from my weekly meeting with the Order.''

''You know, Harry might want to be here to hear this. I'll owl him and Ronald real quick, and then you may continue.''

''Not the Weasel...'' Draco muttered, an exasperated look in his eyes. Hermione ignored him and rushed towards the kitchen.

Once she was done, she walked around the sofa and took her previous seat. ''Go on then''

''Gladly. Draco, '' He suddenly said, turning to look at the slightly startled blonde. ''our presence is requested tonight at midnight.''

''So soon?'' Asked Hermione, her brows furrowing in concern. ''But you just got back from a meeting, and Malfoy did just hours ago too.''

''Yes, well. According to our 'superiors', there's been a change of plans. They been talking about the 'true vengeance' and 'the definite strike' and whatnot for a good two weeks. It seems they've finally put their empty little heads to work and have made their lacking minds up about it.''

Draco immediately remembered Daphne's mischievous smile, her soft, dangerous tone as she'd talked about the Order's feats. A shiver travelled up his spine.

''I was told we'd be given our instructions next Wednesday, Nott, not tonight.''

''Wait, what? You _knew_ about this?'' Hermione's worried frown changed into an accusatory glare, as she turned to Draco.

''Of course I knew about it, Granger.''

''Why on earth would you not tell me about it?''

Draco shrugged, nonchalantly.

''I was waiting for Potter to get home.''

''You could have just told me! How would you even know he's coming home?''

''That's a very stupid question, Granger. It's his house. He has to come back at some point.''

'' _Your assumptions_ are stupid, Malfoy. He wasn't planing to come back tonight. You would've just stayed here all evening waiting for him?''

''Obviously.''

''And what were you going to do in the meantime? Stare out the windows?''

''Practice, obviously.''

''With me, I presume?''

''No, Granger, with the bloody house elf. What do you think?''

''I think you undervalue my time, and I'm not willing to let you do that. We'll practise when we both have time for it, not when prince Malfoy decides he's got a few hours to spare.''

''Prince Malfoy does have very few hours to spare. And he's not going to subject them to _you_!''

''Talking in third person won't make you any less of an arsehole!''

''Sod off a little, will you?''

''I would gladly!''

Their small quarrel was interrupted by Theo clearing his throat. Hermione turned away from Draco, her scowl still well planted over her eyes, and motioned him to speak on.

''Granger, even if Potter is not here, you need to make sure this reaches him. Seeing how they're talking about their next endeavour, it's bound to be something highly destructive. And I mean destructive as in life-taking destructive. They won't think twice before causing a massacre, and it seems they will try to hit where it hurts the most. Now, as you can probably guess, I'm not really one to judge where it would hurt the most, but _you_ are.'' Theo spoke slowly and carefully, his dark blue eyes never leaving Hermione's. Draco shifted uncomfortably next to him, his gaze jumping from one to the other. ''Give it some thought with that big busy mind of yours. You and Potter might want to come up with some possible targets.''

Hermione's brows furrowed even further, as she rubbed her hands together on her lap. ''Well, there's the Ministry, although I'm not so sure they would go there yet. Hogwarts, maybe? St Mungo's... Oh dear. Maybe White Wand, the charity organisation... I'll make sure to write these down and show Harry as soon as he gets here.''

''Good. Those are very possible high-impact targets right there. Although, you might want to put yourself in their shoes a little further. The exorbitant egos, the delusions of grandeur... Their true weakness is their hubris, Granger. You and your sterling knights have to work with that.''

''You're right. I'll start researching straight away.''

''Researching what, exactly?'' Theo asked, his brow rising quizzically. He was starting to think the woman did nothing but read.

''Important events from the First War, a little history on Salazar's time period to find some possible links or clues... Just anything that will catch my attention, really.''

''You better start praying to Circe's right ankle if you are to find all of that among that unruly mess over there.'' He answered, his flat tone rising lightly as he pointed to Hermione's previous reading spot. Her face lightly red, she let out a soft giggle.

Draco huffed, annoyed. There was something about their exchange which was making his stomach tight and upset. Theo and Hermione were still speaking. The witch's head was imperceptibly leant in towards Theo as he spoke, and, at some point in the conversation, Draco decided he'd had enough. He sprung from his seat, making both his companions look up. Hermione was rather confused, surprised to see him stand, whereas Theo had a light smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

''Leaving us already, Draco?''

''No.'' He muttered. ''We're both leaving. Come on; get up.''

''Why the hurry?''

''Because. We have to go.''

''And leave such a lovely hostess to entertain no-one? Draco, where have you left your manners?''

''Nott, we're off. Fetch your dammed cloak.''

Hermione felt like she was getting dizzy from turning her head to watch both Draco and Theo as they argued. Or rather, as Draco argued and Theo snickered.

Eventually, Theo did get up from his comfortable seat on the sofa. He sheepishly placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, and turned towards the door. While the wizard got his cloak, Hermione stared at the blonde and his impatient grimace.

''Granger.'' He suddenly said, his tight, low voice catching Hermione by surprise and making the hairs on the back of her head stand up. Draco took a couple of slithering steps towards her. He was bearing a deep scowl as he approached, and once Hermione thought he might trip over the edge of the sofa and fall on top of her, he bent over her menacingly. She didn't bulge. ''Don't _ever_ dismiss me again.''

It was more like a hiss, than a threat. But it sounded dangerous enough.

''What? Malfoy, don't be ridic-''

''Granger.''

He didn't say another word, and yet Hermione understood everything which sparked in his blunt glare.

Forcing a deep breath out of her shaken body, the witch chose to let it go. She knew there were certain battles which were better left unfought with the blonde, and that was undoubtedly one of them. Careful not to wake a jerky, violent response from him, she extended her arm and quickly grasped his empty hand, the sudden contact of his cold skin sending a light shiver up her spine.

''Remember. Focus on it and I'll do my best to catch it.''

Draco's face was one of such bewilderment, it probably could have been worth far more than a thousand words.

''You just make sure you don't fuck up this time.'' He nervously blurted out, as he pulled his hand out of Hermione's with a quick jerk.

Without giving her enough time to retort, Draco turned around, and with a swish of his black cloak, he was out of the room and of Hermione's sight.

And the witch was left there, by herself, all shaken and confused, while the remains of his subtle cologne lightly coloured the air around her.

* * *

 _Midnight_

The crisp, nightly air ruffled Draco's pale hair, as he descended from the Portkey he'd taken just seconds before. Slightly disoriented, he took his surroundings in, and impatiently waited for something to call his attention. Why hadn't Theo arrived yet? Why were no members of the Order at sight?

With a short, sharp breath, he took a couple of steps forwards, the tall, unkempt grass brushing the hem of his creaseless robes. He conjured a wordless ' _lumos_ ' and allowed his illuminated wand to guide the way through the unruly vegetation. He couldn't help the uneasy feelings taking over inside of him. There wasn't a single soul around, and he was starting to become wary of the fact that he'd been called on such short notice, just to be left out in the dark, in an unknown location, with no-one to tell him where he was, or what he was doing there, or what his next steps should be.

'' _Revelio_ '' He muttered, his wand clasped tightly in his hand. There were no traces of magic around him.

Nothing.

 _Absolutely bloody noth-_

The sudden loud whooshes of a multitude apparating around him caught him by surprise. He'd barely blinked, and suddenly, there were more than a dozen cloaked witches and wizards surrounding him. Each of them looked darker and more tenebrous than the one before. Draco turned slowly on the spot, watching cautiously each of their hidden, unmoving heads. With upmost care and restraint he lowered his wand.

''Hello.''

''Hello, Draco Malfoy.''

''Care to explain what the hell is going on?''

None of the present moved, and Draco let out an annoyed huff, which didn't even transmit half of the amount of frustration he was building up inside.

Finally, someone spoke, and Draco wondered whether he'd preferred it when they hadn't.

''Patience, young Malfoy.''

There was a pause, and the blonde didn't dare say a word.

''You see, the Order has decided to finally going to prove its endless power to the oblivious eyes of the Wizarding World.''

''And how exactly are yo- we going to do that?''

''We, boy, are going to end the Aurors.''

* * *

 _ **MERRY CHRISTMAS**_ _! And sorry for the vast delay. I've been up to my neck with work lately. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter, I tried to make up for the lacking last one!_

 _As you can see, Draco and Hermione are getting closer and closer with each passing day. Who knows what can happen from now on? Our pretty blonde is even starting to get jealous of the people around her... Awh._

 _Anyways, if you enjoyed please **LEAVE A REVIEW**_ ** _!_** _I'll highly appreciate it._

 _Merry Christmas once more and much love from spain!_

 _ **Horned Serpent**_


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